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MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 


From  a  portrait  hy  Joseph  Be  Camp  in  the  collection  of  The  Players. 

JOHN    DREW 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 


BY 


JOHN   DREW 


WITH   A   FOREWORD   BY 

BOOTH  TARKINGTON 


NEW  YORK 

E.  P.  BUTTON  &  COMPANY 

681  FIFTH  AVENUE 


Copyright,  1921,  1922, 

By  the    CURTIS  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

Copyright,  1922, 

By  E.  p.  button  &  COMPANY 

/ill  Rights  Reserved 

First      printing October,  iq22 

Second        "        October,  iq22 

Third         "        November ,  IQ22 


Prlnteft  In  the  tTnltefl  States  of  America 


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FOREWORD 

How  long  ago  is  it,  old  schoolmate,  since  two 
"middlers"  from  Exeter  rollicked  down  to  New  York 
for  an  Easter  vacation,  and  on  an  imperishable  evening 
glamoured  their  young  memories  permanently  with 
Augustin  Daly's  company  of  players  at  Daly's  Theatre 
and  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew? 

What  a  good  and  merry  town  was  brown-stone  New 
York  then,  when  one  stood  at  the  doors  of  the  Fifth 
Avenue  Hotel  to  see  the  pretty  girls  from  all  over  the 
country  parading  by  after  the  matinee;  when  the 
Avenue  was  given  over  to  proud  horses  and  graceful 
women;  when  there  were  no  automobiles  and  only  a 
few  telephones;  when  Ada  Rehan  was  playing 
Katherine  at  Daly's  and  when  those  two  Exeter  school- 
boys got  the  impression  that  the  whole  place  belonged, 
in  a  general  way,  to  the  Petruchio  who  tamed  her, 
John  Drew! 

The  earth  must  have  swung  round  the  sun  a  few 
times  since  then,  my  schoolmate,  for  now  comes  that 
gay  young  Fetruchio  before  us  with  his  Memoirs !    He 


211619 


vi  FOREWORD 

feels  that  he  has  memories  to  entertain  and  to  enlighten 
us;  he  has  now  lived  long  enough  to  have  seen  some- 
thing of  the  stage  and  of  the  world,  it  appears.  For 
one,  I  am  willing  to  read  him.  I  have  listened  to  him 
so  often  since  that  ancient  night  at  Daly's;  and  though 
the  words  I've  heard  him  say  were  words  suggested  by 
some  paltry  fellow  of  a  playwright,  yet  I've  had  such 
entertainment  of  the  man,  so  much  humor  and  delight, 
I  am  even  eager  to  hear  him,  now  that  he  will  speak 
in  his  own  words  of  himself  and  of  his  life,  his  art  and 
his  friends.  As  to  this  last,  though,  he  will  have  to 
select  with  care;  he  could  never  tell  us  much  of  all  his 
friends,  were  Methuselah  from  birth  to  grave  his 
diligent  amanuensis. 

What  he  has  played  most  congenially,  and  with  the 
manliest  humor  of  his  time,  have  been  the  roles  of 
gentlemen;  and  there  is  a  certain  thing  about  his  book 
of  which  we  are  already  sure  before  we  read  it :  therein 
he  cannot  fail  to  add  one  more  to  the  long,  fine  gallery 
of  portraits  of  gentlemen  he  has  shown  us ;  and  this  one 
must  necessarily  be  the  best  gentleman  of  them  all. 
And  it  will  be  the  one  we  have  liked  best,  ever  discern- 
ing it  behind  the  others;  for  it  was  always  there,  and 
turned  many  a  playwright's  shoddy  outline  into  a  fine 


FOREWORD  vii 

fellow.    John  Drew  would  play  Simon  Legree  into  a 
misunderstood  gentleman,  I  believe. 

The  reason  is  a  simple  one:  he  was  born  with  a 
taste  for  the  better  side  of  things  and  the  cleaner 
surfaces  of  life.  He  has  found  them  more  interesting 
and  more  congenial  than  mire,  and  if  he  should  ever 
deal  with  mire  he  would  deal  with  it  cleanly.  Here 
was  the  nature  of  the  man  always  present  in  his  acting; 
and  I  think  it  has  been  because  of  that  and  because  of 
his  humor — his  own  distinctive  humor — that  he  has 
charmed  the  best  American  public  throughout  so  many 
fortunate  years.  John  Drew  has  been  an  actual  feature 
of  the  best  American  life  ever  since  his  youth — indeed, 
he  is  one  of  its  institutions;  and  there  is  a  long  grati- 
tude due  him.  His  Memoirs  may  properly  be  greeted, 
in  fact,  as  we  should  greet  a  birthday  speech  at  the 
banquet  we  are  too  numerous  to  make  for  him ;  that  is, 
with  cheers  as  he  rises  to  address  us.  And  then  as  we 
settle  down  to  listen  we  may  be  sure  we  shall  hear  of 
many  an  old-time  familiar  figure  besides  himself,  for 
John  Drew  has  known  "pretty  much  everybody"  of 
his  generation.  His  generation  still  continues,  it  is 
pleasant  and  reassuring  to  know;  for  he  admits  us  to 
the  intimacy  of  this  autographical  mood  of  his  long 


viii  FOREWORD 

before  the  fireside  years  claim  him.  And  he  may  speak 
to  us  freely,  with  as  good  assurance  as  he  has  always 
had,  that  whenever  he  speaks  at  all  it  is  "among 
friends." 

Booth  Tarkington 
Kennebunkport,  Maine. 
July,  1921. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

John  Drew Frontispiece 

Playbill,  John  Drew's  First  Appearance       .     Page  3 

The  Mother  and  Father  of  John  Drew    Facing  page  6 

The  Earliest  Picture  of  John  Drew  .         "         "  6 
A  Daguerreotype  of  Mrs.  John  Drew,  Senior,  as 

Ophelia Facing  page  10 

"The  Hero  of  Gettysburg"  ....         "         "  14 

The  Old  Arch  Street  Theatre,  Philadelphia     Page  20 

Playbill,  The  Arch  Street  Theatre,  Philadelphia 

Pages  24-25 

Playbill,  The  Arch  Street  Theatre,  Philadelphia 

Pages  30-31 

John  Drew  Before  He  Went  on  the  Stage 

Facing  page       34 

John  Drew  at  the  Time  of  His  First  Appearance 

Facing  page       34 

Ada  Rehan  When  She  Appeared  at  the  Arch  Street 

Theatre Facing  page       34 

Josephine  Baker  (Mrs.  John  Drew)    .         "        "  38 

James  Lewis  and  John  Drew  in  Augustin  Daly's 

Play  "Pique" Facing  page      42 

Playbill  of  John  Drew's  First  Appearance  in  New 

York Page      44 

Mrs.  Gilbert,  Miss  Davenport,  Miss  Jeffrys  Lewis, 
James  Lewis,  Augustin  Daly,  and  John  Drew, 
at  the  Entrance  to  the  Consolidated  Virginia 
Mine Facing  page       48 

Fanny  Davenport "        "  48 

Playbill  of  Booth  in  "Hamlet"     ....     Page      $$ 

ix 


X  ILLUSTRATIONS 

An  Early  Picture  of  Maurice  Barrymore 

Facing  page       62 

Ada  Reran  and  John  Drew  in  "Dollars  and  Sense" 

Facing  page       70 

John  Drew  and  William  Gilbert  in  "Red  Letter 

Nights" Facing  page       74 

Playbill,    Daly's    Theatre,    "Needles    and    Pins" 

Page       82 

Otis  Skinner,  Ada  Rehan,  James  Lewis,  Mrs.  G.  H. 
Gilbert,  and  John  Drew,  in  "The  Railroad  of 
Love" Facing  page       84 

Ada  Rehan  as  Katherine       ....         "         "  90 

Ada  Rehan  as  Rosalind,  John  Drew  as  Orlando,  in 

"As  You  Like  It" Facing  page       96 

John  Drew  as  the  King  of  Navarre  in  "Love's  La- 
bour's Lost" Facing  page     100 

Otis  Skinner,  Edith  Kingdon,  and  John  Drew,  in 

"Nancy  and  Company"    ....    Facing  page     106 

John  Drew  and  Ada  Rehan  in  "The  Squire" 

Facing  page     110 

Ada*  Rehan  and  John  Drew  in  Farquhar's  "The  Re- 
cruiting Officer" Facing  page     1 14 

John  Drew  as  Petruchio  in  "The  Taming  of  the 

Shrew" Facing  page     118 

Playbill  of  "The  Taming  of  the  Shrew"  at  Strat- 

ford-on-Avon Page     120 

John   Drew,   Mrs.   Gilbert,  and  James   Lewis   in 

"7-20-8" Facing  page     124 

Playbill,  "A  Night  Off,"  in  Germany     .     .     Page     129 

Edith  Kingdon  Gould  as  She  Appeared  with  the 

Daly  Company Facing  page     132 

John  Drew  as  Robin  Hood  in   Tennyson's  Play 

"The  Foresters" Facing  page     138 

John  Drew  and  Virginia  Dreher  in  "The  Country 

Girl" Facing  page     142 

Cartoon  from  Punch "        "        146 


ILLUSTRATIONS  xi 

John  Drew,  James  Lewis,  Ada  Rehan,  Charles 
Fisher,  Virginia  Dreher,  Mrs.  G.  H.  Gilbert, 
Otis  Skinner  and  May  Irwin,  in  "A  Night 
Off" Facing  page     152 

Georgie  Drew  Barrymore  with  Ethel,  Lionel  and 

Jack  Barrymore Facing  page     156 

Maude  Adams  and  John   Drew   in   "Butterflies" 

Facing  page     164 

Elsie  De  Wolfe  and  John  Drew  in  "A  Marriage 

of  Convenience" Facing  page     170 

Arthur  Byron  and  John  Drew  in  "The  Tyranny 

of  Tears" Facing  page     170 

Maude    Adams    and    John    Drew    in    "Rosemary" 

Facing  page     174 

Maude  Adams,  Arthur  Byron  and  John  Drew  in 

"Rosemary" Facing  page     178 

Maude  Adams  and  John   Drew   in    "Christopher, 

Jr." Facing  page     184 

Playbill,  Maude  Adams  and  John  Drew  in  "Rose- 
mary"     Page     187 

Mrs.  John  Drew,  Senior,  as  Mrs.  Malaprop  in  "The 

Rivals" Facing  page    '188 

John    Drew    and    Frank    Lamb    in    "The    Liars" 

Facing  page     192 

Ethel  Barrymore  as  the  Rustic  Maid  in  "Rose- 
mary"      Facing  page     200 

John   Drew,  Guy  Standing  and  Ida  Conquest  in 

"The  Second  in  Command"       .      .    Facing  page    204 

John    Drew    and    Billie    Burke    in    "My    Wife" 

Facing  page     208 

Scene  from  Maugham's  Comedy,  "Smith" 

Facing  page     212 

John  Drew,  Reginald  Carrington  and  Lionel 
Barrymore  in  "The  Mummy  and  the  Hum- 
ming Bird" Facing  page    216 

John  Drew  at  Easthampton,  Long  Island 

Facing  page    222 


xii  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Kyalami,    John    Drew's    House    at    Easthampton 

Facing  page     ill 

Pavlowa  and  John  Drew  at  the  Time  of  the  Re- 
vival OF  "Rosemary"       ....    Facing  page     lid 

John  Drew "        "        230 


JM.  . 


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.V--V  ^' 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

CHAPTER  ONE 

WHAT  a  dreadful  young  man!  I  wonder  what 
he  will  be  like  when  he  grows  up." 

The  friendly  audience  that  had  come  to  the  theatre 
on  the  occasion  of  a  benefit  for  my  sister,  Georgie 
Drew,  was  thrilled  with  merriment  when  my  mother, 
referring  to  me,  interpolated  the  speech  above.  The 
play  was  Cool  as  a  Cucumber^  by  W.  Blanchard  Jer- 
rold,  a  one-act  farce,  and  I  was  for  my  first  appearance 
playing  the  role  of  Mr.  Plumper,  The  time  was 
March  22,  1873;  the  place,  the  Arch  Street  Theatre, 
Philadelphia,  then  under  the  management  of  my 
mother. 

Before  my  debut  the  Philadelphia  Inquirer  printed 
an  armouncement  that  I  was  to  appear  for  the  first 
time  on  Saturday  night.     The  article  ended: 

John  Drew  (my  father)  belonged  to  a  school 
of  actors  that  is  passing  away  rapidly  and  leaving 
no  copy  behind,  we  fear.  Of  that  school  Mrs. 
Drew  (my  mother)  is  a  noble  representative,  and 


2  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

we  would  like  to  hope  that  her  daughter  and  son 
are  also  representatives  of  it.  Miss  Drew  has 
appeared  but  two  or  three  times  upon  the  stage, 
and  the  impression  she  then  created  was  favor- 
able. Her  worst  faults  are  her  youth  and  inex- 
perience, and  both  these  time  will  overcome.  Of 
Mr.  Drew  we  know  nothing.  But  remembering 
with  profound  gratitude  the  pleasure  that  the 
mother  and  father  of  these  children  have  given 
the  public,  how  great  and  conscientious  an  artist 
Mrs.  Drew  is,  and  John  Drew  was,  we  trust  for 
their  sakes  that  the  old  playgoers  of  Philadelphia 
will  unite  on  Saturday  to  give  the  young  players, 
just  entering  upon  the  career  by  which  they  are 
to  live,  a  substantial,  hearty  welcome.  It  may 
be  that  for  their  own  sakes  they  deserve  such 
welcome;  but  whether  this  be  so  or  not  they  de- 
serve it  for  the  sake  of  those  great  artists  whose 
children  they  are,  and  who  for  so  many  years  gave 
of  their  best  to  the  pleasure  and  entertainment  of 
the  town. 

We  know  of  no  opportunity  so  favorable  for 
the  public  to  show  its  respect  for  the  memory  of 
the  great  dead  comedian,  or  gratitude  to  his  wife, 
who  survives  him,  as  that  which  will  be  presented 
on  Saturday  night. 

The  first  lines  that  I  spoke  on  any  stage  give  an  idea 
of  the  self-possession  of  the  character  of  Plumper  that 
I  played  in  Cool  as  a  Cucumber^  even  if  they  do  not 
indicate  my  own  self-possession  and  confidence.  I 
was  ushered  on  by  a  maid,  a  part  played  on  that  night 
by  my  mother.    I  addressed  her :    "My  name,  did  you 


MliS.   JOH3V    DREAV'S 

ARCH  STREET  THEATRE. 

BEUIMS  AT  UOARTEKUEKOttE  EIGHT  tCClXHJIC 

biMJti^  Mkiuiger  and  Treiviurer Jos.  D.  Muhphy 

Stage  Msoager       :..•....-..       Bakton  Hill 
UtntaU  DlrMior, I'jioF.  Chas.  Webkb 

SATURDAY    EVENING,  MARCH   22d,   1873, 


M18S&E0B&IE  MBEW 


On  uliirli  o<Tfl»ii>ii  lit-r  Ilrotlifr, 


Will  niukt-liis  First  Aiippnraixe  onJiny  Sinse. 


Tlifr  Hfrfurmiini.'e  will  ronuneiice  w  lili  tln'  Couiwly,  hi  Two  Arts,  catlert 

MORE  PRECIOUS  THAN  GOLD: 

|ji<ly  Louetlale „ _„ MRS.  JOHN  DRKW 

IJIIlfin,  her  ilungliler_„ .._. _ Miss  Oeorgle  Drew 

Mri  Ulnckmore .^..„ „..MiHs  Mary  XlaiMern 

8Jr  Charles  Rocket _ _ „.  Harton  Hill 

Lora  lx»ne<lale „ „.„ Mr.  Cieo.  Melklff 

.\ner  wbidi,  Mr.  Charles  Mathews'  Coiunlfeltu  or 

0@©L  As  ^'  rt'TfnTF-M^-p.ini^  o 


Mr.  Plamper ._ „ JOHN  DREW 

(His  FIntI  .Vupenriiiice  ou  any  stnge.) 

Mr.  Btirklr.s .. „ _ „ Mr.  .S.  Hemple 

KreileiHck  Hnrkina „. . „..„ Mr.  A.  Lawrence 

Jeiutie  Uoilltuit...„„._ _ .„.„ .._ __ _ „ .M1S.S  Rosalie  Jark 

\Vtg<ln«..„ - „„.Ml{S.JOHN  l)Rt-;W 

To  eonoluile  with  the  Melo-Drniiia.  in  Two  .Acts, 


TSS  Sil€iMf ' 


OR.  THE   VISION   OF  THE   MURDER. 

LIxette,  the  Sergennt'H  Wife._ _ __ „ .Miss  BlaiichR  De  Bar 

Margot _ „ -MissG.  DlclCMiu 

OJil  Cartouche  ..„..._..„...„ „ _...__ Mr.  Johu  Parxelle 

HergeaDl  Ki'etlerlck _ ^ : Sir.  Atkins  Lftwroiu-c 

Kerif<>«nt  Ia>iiIs ..._ _ Mr.  NuKle 

s«rgt«iit  Oeurge„..„„ _ _ _ „ Mr.  V.  Kninlit 

(iuKpiu-do ._._..„_ _._ „....„ Mr.  Cieo.  .MPtliirt' 

|i»iiuts.„.^ ._ ^ Mr.  K,  Wilxoii 

Itot>ii|._..._.._.». .„. - _....Mr.  Mark  i^iiiiilnn 

Solillert.  Pfiisaiils.  Ac 

3IOXl>A.Y  EVRNJNO,  MARCH  :>Jlli,  llio  BonulU^iI  llraiDn  rrom  (be  Fr<>ii<-li  ufM.  M. 
D'En.vf.kv  <t  Ploumkh.  b.v  M   Hakt  Jackson,  entitlctl 


IS    WHICH 

MB.  MABK  SMITH 

WIU  nsiiUo  hb  GreAt  Orlgloal  C'h.ir:i<-icr,  JACQUES  FADV'EL,  the  Centenarian. 

PXlZCEia    OF    ^.I^S^ISSZON- r 
Oialn Jo orebeitm  Boxej      -      •       ■    ?L50 1  Orcbeslra  Circle  Tlckett        •      -      75  Cents 


OrriiMm  6eata l.uclDre»t  circle  Tickets    ....   .10  Cents 

lUcrrveil  S*aU  In  tither  Clicle     •      -      l.OO  |  Family  circle  Tickets     •'    •      •      ^SCent.i 
frivmeBoxM -....:     <»,oe 

4«iiic  J.  HuLxca.       • Uox  Book  Keepeb. 


%Wi 


From  Theatre  Collection,  Harvard  University. 
MR.   PLUMPER  JOHN    DREW 

(First  appearance  on  any  stage) 

3 


4  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

say?  Oh  I  your  master  doesn't  know  my  name.  I  say, 
you  don't  keep  the  stairs  very  clean  in  this  establish- 
ment, Susan — your  name  is  Susan*?  You  look  like  a 
Susan." 

I  had  approached  my  first  performance  with  a  great 
deal  of  apprehension,  but  when  the  actual  time  to  go 
on  came,  I  took  the  whole  affair  lightly  and  without 
the  nervousness  that  accompanies  and  should  accom- 
pany a  beginner.  In  my  case  this  is  all  the  more 
remarkable  since  I  had  never  at  any  time  played  in 
amateur  theatricals,  and  I  had  not,  even  as  a  boy, 
played  at  theatre. 

My  mother,  who  had  picked  out  for  me  the  charac- 
ter of  Plumper  for  my  first  appearance,  went  on  in  the 
part  of  the  maid  that  Plumper  addressed  as  "Susan," 
just  to  give  me  confidence.  She  was  greatly  annoyed 
that  I  took  the  whole  thing  so  lightly.  She  said  that  I 
was  too  good.  I  could  not  see  what  she  meant,  but  she 
gave  me  to  understand  that  I  thought  too  much  of 
myself. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  did  think  at  that  time — 
though  I  kept  the  belief  to  myself — that  Joseph  Jef- 
ferson would  have  just  about  three  or  four  years  more 
as  a  comedian.  Hard  experience,  countless  rehearsals 
and  the  playing  of  many  parts,  in  which  I  was  very 
bad,  soon  dispelled  any  such  idea.    My  mother,  who 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  5 

had  been  acting  continuously  since  she  was  eight,  knew 
that  in  the  theatre  success  is  not  easy,  though  at  times 
it  may  seem  a  matter  of  luck.  To  do  what  she  could  to 
save  me  from  my  self-esteem  she  interpolated  at  my 
expense:  "What  a  dreadful  young  man  I  I  wonder 
what  he  will  be  like  when  he  grows  up." 

The  papers  sensed  that  though  the  part  of  Plumper 
called  for  coolness,  suavity  and  assurance  in  all  situa- 
tions— not  that  the  situations  were  so  very  remarkable 
— I  was  a  little  too  confident,  in  fact,  a  little  too 
"Plumperish." 

The  Philadelphia  Morning  Inquirer,  after  saying 
nice  things  about  the  family,  recorded :  "He  must  be 
judged,  if  at  all,  as  an  amateur,  and,  so  judged,  his 
performance  of  Mr.  Plumper  was  a  very  respectable 
one.  If  Mr.  Drew  had  been  a  little  more  nervous,  a 
little  less  sure  of  himself,  we  would  have  been  better 
pleased,  but  he  carried  off  the  easily  won  plaudits  of  a 
most  friendly  and  sympathetic  audience  rather  too 
jauntily." 

The  same  paper  compared  my  performance  to  that 
of  Charles  Mathews,  the  great  comedian,  who  had 
played  the  part  of  Plumper  in  the  same  theatre.  I  was 
accused  of  smiling  at  my  own  jokes  and  the  comic 
situations  in  the  part.  The  Philadelphia  Transcript 
said:     "He  never  lost  his  self-possession,"  and  the 


6  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

Evening  Bulletin:  "Considering  the  circumstances, 
his  self-possession  was  remarkable." 

Of  course  I  had  known  the  theatre  almost  from  in- 
fancy. Early  among  my  recollections  are  conversa- 
tions between  my  mother  and  my  grandmother  about 
changed  conditions  in  the  theatre,  and  that  what  was 
going  on  then  at  the  Arch  Street  Theatre  in  Philadel- 
phia and  Wallack's  in  New  York  was  very  different 
from  the  old  days.  These  conversations  between  the 
two  actresses  would  always  end  with  some  such  dis- 
cussion as  to  whether  it  was  the  spring  of  *29  or  *30 
that  they  had  played  in  Natchez,  Vicksburg  and  other 
places  in  the  South. 

This  Southern  tour  seems  to  have  been  made  in  the 
spring  of  1829,  for  I  have  a  volume  of  Shakespeare's 
plays  in  which  is  written  on  the  fly  leaf:  "This  vol- 
ume, comprising  the  entire  works  of  the  immortal 
dramatist,  is  presented  to  Miss  Louisa  Lane  as  a  feeble, 
though  an  appropriate  and  sincere  testimony  of  her 
extraordinary  genius  and  intellectual  worth  by  C. 
GrifHn,  of  Natchez,  March,  1829.'* 

At  the  time  that  inscription  was  written  my  mother, 
Louisa  Lane,  was  nine  years  old.  The  act.  Twelve 
Precisely^  which  she  played  so  successfully,  seems  to 
have  been  a  protean  sketch  or  skit  in  which  she  as- 
sumed five  characters.    There  is  a  lithograph  published 


From  Tlictitre  Collection,  Harvard   Uvircrsitii. 
THE  MOTHER  AND  FATHER   OF  JOHN  DREW 


THE   EARLIEST   PICTURE    OF   JOHN    DREW 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  7 

in  Boston  in  1828,  which  depicts  Miss  Lane,  eight 
years  of  age,  in  the  five  characters  in  Twelve  Precisely . 
Of  this  performance  at  the  old  Chestnut  Street  Thea- 
tre in  Philadelphia  one  of  the  newspapers  said : 

This  astonishing  little  creature  evinces  a  talent 
for  and  a  knowledge  of  the  stage  beyond  what 
we  find  in  many  experienced  performers  of  merit. 
The  entertainment  of  Twelve  Precisely  is  well 
adapted  to  the  display  of  the  versatility  of  her 
powers ;  and  in  the  Irish  Girl  she  may,  with  truth, 
be  pronounced  inimitably  comic.  Her  brogue  and 
manner  are  excellent.  The  Young  Soldier  was 
also  admirably  assumed. 

In  February,  1828,  Louisa  Lane  appeared  as  Albert 
to  Edwin  Forrest's  William  Tell.  The  latter  seems 
to  have  been  so  pleased  that  he  presented  my  mother 
with  a  silver  medal  on  which  is  inscribed:  "Presented 
by  E.  Forrest  to  Miss  L.  Lane  as  a  testimonial  of  his 
admiration  for  her  talents." 


CHAPTER  TWO 

I  WAS  born  in  1853,  and  my  birthday  was  Novem- 
ber 13 — the  same  day  as  Edwin  Booth's.  I  was 
christened  January  10,  1854,  in  St.  Stephen's  Church. 
This  was  my  mother's  birthday.  My  godfathers  were 
William  Wheatley,  who  was  associated  with  my 
father  in  the  management  of  the  Arch  Street  Theatre, 
and  William  Sheridan,  who  as  William  S.  Fredericks 
was  the  stage  manager  of  the  same  theatre.  My  god- 
mother was  Mrs.  D.  P.  Bowers,  one  of  the  best  known 
actresses  on  the  American  stage  and  a  great  friend  of 
my  mother's.  She  played  Lady  Audley,  East  Lynne 
and  Camille  through  the  country  with  great  success. 
I  was  bom  at  269  (according  to  the  new  numbering 
709)  South  Tenth  Street,  Philadelphia.  Later  we 
moved  to  Buttonwood  Street,  and  when  my  mother 
took  over  the  management  of  the  Arch  Street  Theatre, 
which  had  earlier  been  managed  by  my  father  and 
William  Wheatley,  we  lived  first  on  Eighth  Street  and 
then  on  Ninth,  so  that  my  mother  might  be  near  the 
theatre  which  was  at  Sixth  and  Arch. 

I  vaguely  remember  the  Buttonwood  Street  house 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  9 

and  I  know  that  it  was  to  this  house  that  my  father, 
a  successful  portrayer  of  Irish  comedy  roles,  came  back 
from  one  of  his  several  trips  to  Ireland,  bringing  with 
him  an  Irish  donkey  that  was  allowed  to  roam  for  a 
short  time  in  our  back  yard  and  was  then  sold.  This 
donkey  seemed  to  me  to  be  a  huge  steed  and  is,  I  think, 
my  earliest  recollection. 

I  cannot  remember  a  time  when  I  was  not  interested 
in  games.  Riding  was  always  my  favorite  sport.  At 
a  tender  age  I  was  sent  to  Madame  Minna's  Riding 
Academy.  I  had  only  had  one  or  two  lessons  when  I 
was  thrown,  and  the  horse  stepped  on  the  crown  of  my 
hat.  Before  I  had  time  to  be  frightened  the  riding 
master  put  me  back  in  the  saddle,  cramped  my  leg 
down  and  said :  "You're  all  right  now."  I  think  this 
kept  me  from  losing  my  nerve. 

I  do  not  remember  when  I  learned  to  swim,  nor  do  I 
remember  a  time  at  which  I  did  not  row.  I  rowed  on 
the  Schuylkill  River  and  belonged  to  the  Malta  Boat 
Club,  of  which  I  am  still  an  honorary  member.  The 
boys  in  my  day  played  baseball,  and,  of  course,  we 
played  cricket,  being  Philadelphians.  I  was  very  fond 
of  fencing  and  took  it  up  long  before  I  decided  to  go 
on  the  stage.  In  the  Arch  Street  Theatre  there  was  a 
large  space  back  of  the  balcony  where  we  held  fencing 
classes.    In  my  early  years  in  the  theatre  fencing  was 


lo  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

a  very  necessary  part  of  the  actor's  equipment,  for  it 
was  supposed  to  lend  grace  to  the  carriage  as  well  as 
being  necessary  in  so  many  of  the  plays.  In  later  years 
I  won  a  fencing  championship  of  the  New  York  Ath- 
letic Club. 

It  is  the  house  at  119  North  Ninth  Street  that  I 
associate  with  my  boyhood.  It  was  a  conventional 
Philadelphia  house,  with  white  shutters  and  white 
steps.  We  were  not  in  an  exceptional  or  fashionable 
neighborhood.  A  great  many  of  our  neighbors  were 
Quakers.  My  chief  playmate  was  Isaac  T.  Hopper, 
named  for  his  grandfather,  the  great  abolitionist. 
Next  to  us  in  Buttonwood  Street  had  lived  the  Quaker, 
Passmore  Williamson,  who  was  much  interested  in  the 
underground  railroad  by  which  slaves  were  escaping 
to  Canada. 

Passmore  Williamson  figured  in  a  sensational  case 
in  the  late  fifties.  Colonel  John  H.  Wheeler,  the 
United  States  minister  to  Nicaragua,  was  on  a  steam- 
boat at  one  of  the  Delaware  wharves.  Three  slaves 
belonging  to  him  were  sitting  at  his  side  on  the  upper 
deck.  Just  as  the  signal  bell  was  ringing  Passmore 
Williamson  went  up  to  the  slaves  and  told  them  that 
they  were  free.  The  slaves  did  not  wish  to  leave  their 
master  but  a  negro  mob  took  them  ashore.  The  legal 
action  and  arguments  resulting  from  this  consumed 


From  Theatre  Collection,  Harvard   University. 


A    DAGUERROTYPE    OF    MRS.     JOHN    DREVV^    SENIOR,    AS 

OPHELIA 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  ii 

much  time  and  filled  a  volume.  During  part  of  the 
time  Williamson  was  defended  by  Edward  Hopper, 
the  father  of  my  playmate. 

Young  Hopper's  mother  was  a  daughter  of  Lucretia 
Mott.  I  remember  so  well  that  wonderful  woman,  and 
how  much  she  impressed  me  even  then.  With  my  play- 
mate I  used  to  visit  her  country  place,  which  in  those 
days  seemed  so  far  out  of  town.  It  was  at  City  Line, 
and  the  Mott  place  was  called  Roadside.  First  there 
was  a  long  ride  in  a  horse  car  to  the  North  Pennsyl- 
vania train.  Here  on  one  occasion  I  saw  Lord  and 
Lady  Amberly,  who  were  interested  in  abolition  and 
the  reforms  to  which  Lucretia  Mott  devoted  so  much 
time  and  attention.  While  I  do  not  recall  now  any 
of  the  conversations,  I  remember  that  it  was  very  dif- 
ferent from  what  I  heard  at  home  and  most  of  these 
people  talked  what  the  Quakers  called  the  "common 
language." 

I  was  taken  to  hear  Wendell  Phillips  by  the  Hop- 
pers and  the  Motts,  I  was  impressed  because  they  were 
but  I  was  really  too  young. 

One  day  I  came  back  from  Roadside  and  told  my 
mother  and  grandmother  that  I  had  seen  women  sew- 
ing on  Sunday.  In  our  own  household  the  toys  and 
books  of  my  sisters  and  myself  were  put  away  on  Sun- 
day.    My  grandmother  was  somewhat  surprised  that 


12  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

people  would  sew  on  Sunday.  Her  own  idea  of  Sun- 
day occupation  was  the  Spirit  of  Missions,  which  she 
read  literally  from  cover  to  cover.  My  grandmother, 
Mrs.  Kinloch,  had  played  in  a  number  of  theatrical 
companies  in  this  country  and  England,  and  had  been 
forced  to  withdraw  from  a  company  in  New  Orleans 
because  she  refused  to  act  on  Sunday.  Sunday  per- 
formances were  then  as  now  the  custom  in  New  Or- 
leans. As  a  very  young  boy  I  can  remember  going  to 
St.  Stephen's  with  my  grandmother,  who  gave  the  re- 
sponses in  a  very  loud  voice  which  seemed  to  me  the 
height  of  religious  fervor. 

Before  I  was  ten  I  went  to  a  school  at  a  place  called 
Village  Green,  which  was  made  a  military  school  while 
I  was  there.  I  hated  to  leave  home,  but  going  away  got 
me  out  of  one  difficulty.  I  had  the  greatest  trouble 
with  my  speech.  I  talked  with  that  same  accent  or 
intonation  that  Philadelphians,  no  matter  of  what  de- 
gree, always  seem  to  have. 

I  can  remember  the  extreme  annoyance  of  my  grand- 
mother. She  would  protest  to  my  mother:  "Louisa, 
I  cannot  understand  a  word  the  boy  says." 

I  would  try  and  pronounce  words  as  they  told  me  to 
at  home.  It  was  no  use,  and  while  I  probably  im- 
proved somewhat  under  the  instruction  of  these  two 
actresses,  who  had  been  trained  in  the  old  school  of 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  13 

elocution,  I  was  glad  to  escape  to  the  street  and  my 
playmates. 

I  spent  my  tenth  birthday  at  Village  Green.  I  have 
a  letter  from  my  mother  dated  "Philadelphia,  Novem- 
ber 12,  1863": 

My  dear  Son :  I  received  yours  of  the  ninth  inst. 
today.  Tomorrow  will  be  your  birthday,  my 
darling — you  are  ten  years  old  tomorrow.  All 
your  family  wish  you  many,  many  happy  returns 
of  the  day.  I  can't  send  you  any  birthday  pres- 
ent, as  you  are  soon  to  come  home.  Sorry  that  the 
shoes  are  too  large,  but  if  you  can  get  along  till 
you  come  home,  I  will  get  you  a  pair  to  fit  better. 
Of  course  you  can  take  your  sledge  back  with  you. 
Take  good  care  of  yourself,  and  as  it  is  cold  early 
in  the  morning,  don't  waste  time  in  dressing  your- 
self. 

All  send  love.    God  bless  you  dear. 
Your  affectionate  mother, 

Louisa  Drew. 

From  Village  Green  I  went  to  another  boarding 
school  at  Andalusia  in  Bucks  County,  Pennsylvania. 
Here  four  of  us  had  a  room  together,  and  we  had  to  get 
up  in  turn  and  make  the  fire  in  a  Franklin  stove.  I 
was  very  young,  the  youngest  boy  in  the  school,  and 
particularly  poor  at  fire  making.  When  my  turn  came 
I  received  jibes  and  advice  from  my  three  schoolmates 
in  their  luxurious  and  warm  beds. 


14  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

This  school  was  a  sectarian  one,  and  a  place  with 
some  reputation  in  Philadelphia;  but  a  friend  of  the 
family,  who  had  boys  in  the  school,  thought  it  did 
not  give  a  good  education  in  the  classics,  and  so  I  was 
taken  out  of  boarding  school  and  sent  to  the  Episcopal 
Academy  in  Philadelphia.  I  do  not  suppose  that  I 
was  a  very  good  student.  The  things  I  liked,  Latin 
and  French,  I  kept  up  for  years  afterward.  In  arith- 
metic I  was  shocking.  Together  with  the  other  boys  of 
the  day,  I  regarded  my  teachers  as  natural  enemies. 
Most  of  the  schoolboys  were  in  some  cadet  corps.  The 
older  boys  were  drilling,  because  they  thought  they 
might  be  called  to  the  colors  in  a  year  or  two.  I  was 
the  youngest  boy  in  the  corps  commanded  by  one 
Major  Eckendorf ;  and  there  is  a  picture  of  me  in  uni- 
form, taken  at  Germon's  Photograph  Gallery,  on 
Chestnut  Street,  which  has  always  been  called  in  the 
family  "The  Hero  of  Gettysburg."  This  was  taken 
in  July,  1863,  just  after  the  battle  of  Gettysburg. 

My  first  recollection  of  an  officer  was  not  Major 
Eckendorf,  but  my  uncle,  Edward  Drew.  On  his  way 
to  the  front  he  came  through  Philadelphia  and  stopped 
at  our  house.  He  was  a  captain  in  Berdan's  sharp- 
shooters. He  woj:e  one  of  those  Civil  War  uniforms 
with  long,  blue  frock-coat  effect,  single-breasted,  with 
brass  buttons.    He  had  long  side  whiskers  called  Pic- 


THE   HERO   OF   GETTYSBURG 

This  photograph  of  John  Drew  was  taken  in  July,  1863,  just  after 
the  battle. 


I 


i 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  15 

cadilly  weepers,  which  gave  him  a  sort  of  Dundreary 
appearance.  He  showed  my  father  an  entirely  new 
sighting  device  which  was  then  being  distributed  to  his 
men. 

School  was  much  interrupted  in  Civil  War  days, 
and  my  companions  who  had  fathers,  older  brothers  or 
relatives  in  the  war  would  disappear  for  a  day  or  two 
and  then  come  back  somewhat  subdued  and  with  some 
evidence  of  mourning. 

In  a  thoughtless  way  I  felt  somewhat  out  of  things. 
One  morning  I  came  down  to  breakfast  to  find  my 
mother  and  my  grandmother  in  tears.  My  mother  was 
reading  aloud  a  letter  telling  of  the  death  of  my  uncle, 
Edward  Drew.    He  had  been  killed  in  action. 

I  hurried  to  school  to  declare  myself  in  the  "move- 
ment" because  I,  too,  had  lost  some  one.  My  uncle  had 
seemed  to  me  very  smart  with  his  brass  buttons  and 
wonderful  whiskers,  but  the  satisfaction  of  being  in 
the  "game"  with  my  companions  outweighed  the  loss 
of  an  uncle  that  I  really  did  not  know.  Still,  the  fact 
that  he  was  killed  in  action  affected  me  more  than  the 
death  of  my  uncle,  George  Drew,  who  had  been  sent 
back  to  Buffalo,  where  he  died  of  wounds. 

The  fall  of  Richmond  meant  to  us  a  half-holiday; 
and  then  one  morning  on  my  way  to  school  I  heard  that 
Lincoln  had  been  shot.    I  rushed  back  to  the  house  to 


i6  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

tell  my  mother,  who  had  not  yet  left  her  room  and  I 
knew  that  she  could  not  have  seen  a  newspaper. 

Soon  after  this  a  friend  of  the  family  took  me  with 
two  companions  to  Washington  to  see  the  grand  review 
of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  Though  this  trip  had 
been  planned  somewhat  in  advance,  the  man  who  took 
us  had  not  procured  places  and  for  a  while  it  looked  as 
though  three  small  boys  would  not  be  able  to  see  the 
soldiers.  Opposite  the  reviewing  stand  there  was  a 
roped-off  inclosure  to  which  we  were  denied  entrance. 
We  pleaded  with  the  officer  who  stood  there,  and  when 
he  learned  that  we  had  come  all  the  way  from  Penn- 
sylvania he  let  us  inside  the  ropes,  for  he  was  a  Penn- 
sylvanian  also. 

In  the  grand  stand,  just  across  Pennsylvania  Avenue, 
sat  President  Johnson,  General  Sheridan  and  General 
Sherman.  The  latter  I  was  to  know  well  later  and  to 
see  often  at  the  The  Players  in  New  York  and  at 
Daly's  Theatre. 

I  was  greatly  impressed  by  Sherman's  Army.  The 
wonderful  alignment,  the  splendid  marching  and 
bright  arms  were  so  great  a  contrast  to  the  tattered  uni- 
forms of  the  men  who  had  seen  much  service. 

One  other  general  I  remember  that  day.  Some  fool 
person  in  the  crowd  rushed  outside  the  line,  well 
guarded  though  it  was,  just  as  General  Custer,  that 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  17 

wonderful  figure  with  his  long  hair,  rode  past.  The 
bouquet  that  was  offered  to  the  general  frightened  his 
horse,  and  the  general  was  thrown  on  the  Belgian 
Blocks.  He  had  a  reputation  of  being  one  of  the  best 
riders  in  the  army,  and  when  he  remounted  he  made  his 
horse  caracole  just  to  show  that  he  was  master  of  the 
situation. 


CHAPTER  THREE 

IN  these  late  years,  when  I  have  been  playing  Phila- 
delphia, I  have  made  pilgrimages  to  the  different 
places  that  were  associated  with  my  youth. 

My  old  school  is  one  of  them,  the  Episcopal  Acad- 
emy at  Juniper  and  Locust  Streets;  the  school  has 
moved  out  into  the  country  towards  Haverford,  but 
the  building  still  stands. 

I  walk  to  Logan  Square,  where  I  attended  a  fair  with 
my  mother  in  the  early  days  of  the  Civil  War.  It  was 
called  a  Sanitary  Fair,  because  it  was  held  under  the 
auspices  of  the  Sanitary  Commission.  I  have  an  album 
that  my  mother  bought  me  there. 

I  go  to  St.  Stephen's  Church,  Tenth  Street  near 
Chestnut,  now  in  a  kind  of  sordid  neighborhood.  The 
church  was  rehabilitated  a  comparatively  short  time 
ago.  The  last  time  I  was  there  I  asked  to  see  the  bap- 
tismal register  and  found  out  that  I  was  christened  on 
my  mother's  birthday,  January  lo,  1854. 

There  was  a  young  woman  doing  some  work  in  the 

church  and,  after  I  pointed  out  the  entry  on  the  regis- 

18 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  19 

ter,  she  said :    "Oh,  I  have  something  that  may  interest 
you." 

She  brought  out  a  box  containing  a  great  many 
odds  and  ends,  and  from  it  took  a  silver  plate.  It 
brought  back  memories  of  going  to  Sunday  School  and 
then  being  taken  into  church  afterward  and  being  dis- 
missed by  my  grandmother,  Mrs.  Kinloch,  before  the 
sermon.  That  silver  plate  had  been  on  my  mother's 
pew  in  St.  Stephen's  for  more  than  sixty  years.  On  the 
plate  was  engraved  "L.  Drew." 

I  walk  down  and  look  at  the  front  of  the  Arch  Street 
Theatre,  which  holds  so  many  memories.  It  has  fallen 
on  different  days  and  has  been  in  turn  a  German,  a 
variety,  a  Yiddish  theatre. 

My  mother  took  over  the  lease  of  the  Arch  Street 
Theatre  in  1861,  and  the  first  play  that  I  remember 
anything  at  all  about  is  one  called  Scotto,  the  Scout, 
an  ephemeral  thing  that  was  a  concession  to  the  great 
interest  in  the  war.  I  do  not  know  whether  or  not  this 
was  the  first  play  that  I  saw  nor  do  I  know  who  wrote 
it.  I  imagine  that  it  was  hastily  fashioned  from  stock 
material  with  a  little  added  war  interest.  So  far  as  I 
know  it  was  never  done  in  any  other  theatre.  To  the 
usual  stock  characters  of  the  day  was  added  the  then 
prominent  General  MacDowell  and  a  number  of 
negroes. 


20  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

Another  very  early  play  I  remember  is  Feter  Wil- 
kins,  or  The  Flying  Islanders.  In  this  my  mother 
played  the  part  of  a  boy  and  engaged  in  a  two-sworded 


OTiir.»iimi,i  -iMij 


From  Theatre  Collection,  Harvard   University. 

THE  OLD  ARCH  STREET  THEATRE,  PHILADELPHIA,  WHERE  JOHN 
DREW  MADE  HIS  FIRST  APPEARANCE  UNDER  HIS  MOTHEH's 
DIRECTION 

combat  with  a  large,  powerful  man.  Naturally  she 
vanquished  him.  I  was  seldom  allowed  to  go  back 
stage,  but  we  often  entered  the  family  box  from  the 
stage  so  as  to  avoid  the  crowds  in  the  lobby.  My 
grandmother  usually  accompanied  us,  and  Friday 
night  was  our  theatre  night  as  there  was  no  school  on 
Saturday. 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  21 

Of  my  father's  performances  I  saw  only  a  few.  One 
of  his  best  parts  was  Gerald  Pepper,  in  The  White 
Horse  of  the  Peppers.  Tyrone  Power  had  been  the 
original  Gerald  in  this  play  of  Samuel  Lover's,  both 
in  England  and  in  this  country.  Gerald  disguises 
himself  as  a  "spalpeen"  and  comes  back  to  annoy  the 
holder  of  his  confiscated  land. 

From  an  early  advertisement  we  read :  "The  drama 
is  replete  with  such  incidents  and  situations  as  are 
required  in  stage  representations,  while  the  dialogue 
abounds  with  just  sentiment,  genuine  wit,  pure  humor 
and  natural  pathos."  The  scene  of  the  play  was  in 
Ireland  about  1690,  after  the  Battle  of  the  Boyne. 

In  the  original  version  Gerald  says  that  if  his  plot 
fails  he  will  go  to  France :  "Many  an  Irish  refugee  is 
there :  for  the  Lily  of  France  gives  glorious  shelter  to 
the  exiles  from  the  land  of  the  Shamrock."  In  the 
Arch  Street  Theatre  version  this  line  was  changed  to 
read  that  the  flag  of  America  would  give  "glorious 
shelter,"  etc.  The  absurdity  of  this  struck  me,  young 
as  I  was,  and  I  demanded  to  know  of  mother  why  this 
change  had  been  made.  She  explained  that  it  was  a 
concession  to  popular  taste,  and  that,  of  course,  there 
was  no  other  reason  for  it.  In  1690  there  was  no  flag 
of  America,  and  the  colonies  were  quite  as  English  as 
Ireland  at  that  time. 


22  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

My  father  also  appeared  in  Handy  Andy,  Knight  of 
Arva,  or  Connor  the  Rash,  the  Irish  Emigrant  and 
Samuel  Lover's  Rory  O'More,  all  successful  and  popu- 
lar plays  of  the  day.  He  did  play  other  parts,  and  in 
the  Tallis  edition  of  Shakespeare  there  is  a  picture  of 
him  as  Sir  Andrew  in  Twelfth  Night — a  part  I  was  to 
play  many  years  later  in  support  of  Adelaide  Neilson. 
But  it  was  in  the  Irish  roles  that  he  made  his  great 
success.  He  went  to  California  by  way  of  the  Isthmus, 
and  from  there  he  went  to  Australia  and  then  to  Lon- 
don and  Ireland.  I  have  a  letter  from  him,  dated 
"Melbourne,  Victoria,  October  17,  1859."    It  begins: 

I  went  the  other  day  to  buy  a  book  for  your 
dear  little  sister  Louisa  and  among  others  I  found 
this.  I  have  cut  these  leaves  out  and  send  them 
to  you  because  they  speak  of  a  little  boy  named 
John  Drew. 

This  is  written  on  the  back  of  the  illustrated  rhymes 
which  begin: 

Who  would  have  believed  it. 

If  it  were  not  proved  true, 
That  so  pretty  a  lad 

As  was  little  John  Drew, 
The  pet  of  his  sisters. 

The  hope  of  his  dad. 
Should    have    such    an   objection 

To  washing  and  dressing — 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  23 

These  verses  go  on  to  show  how  the  youthful  hero 
of  this  sad  tale  degenerated  until  his  clothes  looked 
like  a  coal  sack: 

His  playmates  forsook  him, 

What  else  could  they  do*? 
And  at  length  a  man  took  him, 

What  else  could  they  do? 

— Alas  I    Johnny  Drew — 
Upon  soot  bags,  to  sleep, 

In  a  cellar  so  deep, 
And  bound  him  apprentice, 

To  work  as  a  sweep. 

Upon  his  world  tour  my  father  was  accompanied  by 
my  elder  sister  and  my  aunt.  He  came  back  to  Phila- 
delphia early  in  1862,  played  an  engagement  of  sev- 
eral months  in  his  repertoire  at  the  Arch  Street  Thea- 
tre, and  in  May  of  that  year  he  died. 

The  Freeman's  Journal^  of  Dublin,  printed  the  fact 
of  his  death  with  black  rules  or  borders  around  the 
column.  He  was  very  popular  there  and  highly  re- 
garded as  an  exponent  of  the  Irish  drama,  which  in 
those  days  was  romantic  comedy  and  nothing  like  the 
Harrigan  and  Hart  Irish  plays  done  in  New  York  at 
a  later  period ;  nor  were  they  at  all  similar  to  the  Irish 
Theatre  of  Lady  Gregory  and  Synge. 

I  saw  a  number  of  early  performances  that  im- 
pressed me  greatly.    Three  of  these  were  by  the  greatest 


ARCH  ST.  THSATRB 


AKca  frwnBme,  above  iiisTH. 


lESSEE,     -      •      •      THOMAS  J.HEMPHILL  I  ACTIW6&  STAGE  MAWA8ER,  WM.  S.  FBEDE8ICKS 

Pkiqntt,  and  Flnt  uid  Sscoad  nan  of  B<na.  2S  Cts.     Seeared  S«ati.  37(  Cta.      Orehettn  Semta.  SO  Cte 
Single  Seats  in  Pnvate  Boxes,  7S  Cta.     Private  Boxes,  t3.     OaUery.  12i  Cents. 

Ttase  AHe*e«^D»»r«  apra  qaarlrr  k*l»rc  T.         Tk«  PcrformaBC*  wUl  o— m»et  •!  «»»rt«»  fSM  »  •••*•«•. 

TKEASCBZB '•  INOLia  UATTBtMM 


8K^S.ATdflLM    IM    I»AR.IS^:a 


POR  THE  FIRST  TlUK 


TliinI  ApimuM  of  Um  CREaT  PaVORTTES.  Mr.  »l  Mm 


JOHN  DREW 


VTHO  ARE  NUSUTLY  RECiSTCO  BY 


CROWDED  audience:^, 


MR.  DREW  IN  THREE  PIECES! 
MRS.  DREW  AS  THE 


All  the  Company  in  Favorite  Characters 


iSMPiiliiN  IMtf  ITIP! 


On  TVednesday  Evening,  Feh.  23d,  1853, 


Wa  W  pKKUed  CHaB1.es  sei^BY'S  «K«S»l  Diiua.  aUtt. 


SATAN  IN  PARIS! 

Or,  l-ajb;  MTSTEBIOUB  8THANQER 

■■■■■■■■i, Hn.  JOHH  VtXW 

CBSaUET, .         •      Xr.JOHIDSXV 

Oni  BeifT  te  B««dU „ Ik  CORlLAD  CLaUE   I  Co>f«l .^^ _ lU  MMSM 

Ciptua  Ckou^ , _ -Hr.  ROBERTS    i 

C«i>tV.ulte „ Mr.  as  PALMER    I  HmIhm  4«  SmmtjI* .'_„ JCa  «ll«0. 

DiflenM „ Mt.HAMILTON    I  Mad.  4>  Lum*! \.^ „ Mm  W1tM» 

Oiiiti»l.„ ^ Ul.lLr  srOHE    I  t£.i.  i,  Bmntw,  ,.. _.  ...  Mn.  UOBiaT 

frtnam...: Mr  BALL    I  Uxi  4«  NaabU* MaaWMXIAU 

Fiat „ Mt.rRAZ£R   I  UAVSoteaift IU»COOPI. 

tjmff lit  B8ADl.Kr    <  Um*titm.i Wa  UZ2B  JTCitUi 

OVERT  UKfi.  ...  ...  ..  OBOHBSTBA 


T»  t>  Ubmtt  k/  lb<  SMcaofil  Dnt^,  ailed  Iba 


mZSB  ISllII@RAlirT! 

O'BSTAI, Hr.JOHBIUtEW 

Ik  wUek  Ckaimeier  k*  will  Bla*  '  Tke  Brisk  Sastfrvai'i  I«m««i« 

•teGmiU..~.   ......^..i _ M>.IIAM>LTON  ,  WUIaa  _.........._ Jk.  KiUaB 

lb.»««i«.. „..„.„.„..„„ ; Mi^PAUM.!"  >  lUlFlUialiM _ -^...^ Ib«  rUCB 

f—  Bitit.il »... -UiiPAUfES  ]  M»7TT»<n  .„_ _ lOaWILUAIM 

BTin«Mn„ — ^,.,,,r...rrr.lft8"'«»™  (  >■-  ''■Trg^tiki    i    i       ~ "" 

24 


(OVXBTCrBS, 


OROHBSTHA 


T«  midoil*  with  tb«  Ltv^dtM*  rwt«  ealM 


THE  IRISH  TUTOR! 


iKxrroi  O'TOOLS,       • 


s,  ••Praitr  n«M,  nilklsf  k«r  C«w.' 

DLfMl..^ — .- Mr.  PAULUN    1     I.tCoa«ttji» 


Ck 

Tilt>^.. 


Mf.  BOBERTS     I     UOMtujma 

.Hr.  BSARLKY    I     R<»> 

..    Mr.NUNAN    •      Miry 


Mr.  JOHH  DEEW 

Mi.PRXKEK 

, Mf.  HAU. 

!)••  wiLi.um 

Hw  UZyjK  STfXU 


TO-MOBBOW,  TH0K8DAY.  wfil  be  produced  the 


BEAlTTIFUIi  DRAMATIC  POEM  AI\D  SPECTACLE 


Mastc,  IfEarcheJS  and  Elegant  E^fTectfik 

SB.  AID  KBS.  JOHl  DREW  WILL  BOTH  APPEAR. 


Bn«a>i  StMO-mnt  Itb  TttaUat  OOca,  l«d«Bt 


PLAYBILL,   AECH    STREET    THEATRE,    PHILADELPHIA,     1853 

2$ 


26  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

actors  of  the  day.  At  the  Walnut  Street  Theatre  I 
saw  Edwin  Forrest  in  Richelieu,  and  Edwin  Booth  in 
Tom  Taylor's  play,  The  FooPs  Revenge,  at  the  Chest- 
nut Street  Theatre,  and  E.  L.  Davenport  as  Sir  Giles 
Overreach  in  Massinger's  play,  A  New  Way  to  Fay 
Old  Debts.  I  also  saw  such  popular  performances  as 
that  of  Joseph  Proctor  in  Nick  of  the  Woods.  And 
then  there  was  that  fine  actor  William  E.  Sheridan  in 
a  number  of  plays  with  the  Chestnut  Street  Theatre 
Stock  company  but  I  do  not  believe  that  I  saw  him  in 
any  important  role.  Sheridan  left  the  stage  to  enlist 
and  rose  to  be  a  captain.  He  was  wounded  several 
times  and  one  of  his  wounds  disabled  his  hand. 

Our  house  in  Ninth  Street  was  visited  by  these  men 
when  they  were  playing  in  Philadelphia,  and  Sunday 
night  there  was  almost  always  some  one  connected  with 
the  theatre  for  supper.  My  mother  had  played  in  so 
many  companies  and  had  been  in  the  theatre  so  long 
that  the  Booths,  the  Jeffersons  and  many  others  were 
intimately  associated  with  the  family. 

I  saw  both  the  Prince  of  Wales  and  Charles  Dickens 
in  the  "sixties."  My  grandmother  took  me  to  see  the 
former.  He  appeared  on  the  balcony  of  the  old  Con- 
tinental Hotel,  looking  not  unlike  the  present  Prince 
of  Wales  on  his  recent  visit.  There  was  nothing  to 
suggest  the  rather  heavy,  bearded  man  who,  in  the 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  27 

summer  of  1888,  sent  for  Ada  Rehan  and  myself  to 
come  to  his  box  in  the  Gaiety  Theatre,  London,  during 
a  performance  of  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew. 

I  heard  Charles  Dickens  give  a  reading  from  "Pick- 
wick Papers"  on  his  second  American  tour.  So  great 
was  the  crowd  that  we  were  shown  to  our  seats  through 
the  stage  entrance.  My  mother,  grandmother,  sisters 
and  Robert  Craig,  a  young  comedian  in  my  mother's 
company,  went  to  hear  the  great  novelist. 

As  I  remember,  the  reading  was  in  the  old  Concert 
Hall  in  Chestnut  Street  where,  with  the  Motts  and 
the  Hoppers,  I  had  heard  Wendell  Phillips. 

Craig  was  late  by  reason  of  rehearsing,  but  he  ar- 
rived at  the  reading  in  time  to  get  what  he  wanted  of 
the  Dickens  mannerisms  and  intonation  and  appear- 
ance. Craig  had  marvelous  powers  as  a  mimic,  and 
he  was  particularly  good  in  his  imitation  of  the  novel- 
ist. Nothing  he  did  in  the  Arch  Street  Theatre  was 
quite  so  popular  as  the  skits  he  wrote  and  in  which  he 
appeared  as  Dickens. 

Upon  the  invitation  of  my  mother  Charles  Dickens 
visited  the  Arch  Street  Theatre  and  saw  a  performance 
of  Ours.  This  piece  of  Tom  Robertson's  was  always 
in  the  repertoire,  just  as  it  was  at  Wallack's,  and  was 
a  great  favorite  of  my  mother's.  In  asking  Dickens 
to  come  to  the  theatre  my  mother  assured  him  that  his 


38  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

visit  would  not  be  made  known  in  advance,  and  that 
he  need  not  fear  that  he  would  be  annoyed  by  curious 
crowds.  He  wrote  her  a  very  gracious  and  charming 
letter  thanking  her. 

As  there  were  no  touring  companies  in  those  days, 
plays  were  usually  sold  for  the  different  towns.  My 
mother  had  an  arrangement  with  Lester  Wallack,  by 
which  she  had  the  first  choice  of  all  the  plays  that  he 
bought  from  the  English  authors.  When  she  consid- 
ered doing  one  of  these,  she  would  go  to  New  York  to 
see  the  Wallack  production  and  judge  it  not  only  for 
Philadelphia  audiences  but  with  an  idea  as  to  its  suit- 
ability for  the  Arch  Street  Theatre  company. 

It  was  on  one  of  these  trips  to  look  over  a  play  that 
I  first  saw  New  York,  that  is  the  New  York  of  theatres, 
hotels  and  restaurants.  Before  this  I  had  been  brought 
over  to  see  the  Great  Eastern  on  its  arrival  after  its 
first  voyage  by  John  Sef ton,  an  old  friend  of  the  fam- 
ily. The  boat  was  somewhere  in  the  North  River  as 
I  remember.  We  left  Philadelphia  early  in  the  morn- 
ing and  went  back  that  same  night.  John  Sefton,  who 
accompanied  me,  had  been  years  in  the  theatre  and  in 
the  days  before  the  railroads,  when  it  was  necessary 
to  cross  the  mountains  in  a  coach,  he  had  been  a  mem- 
ber of  a  stock  company  in  Pittsburg. 

When  I  visited  New  York  with  my  mother  wc 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  29 

stopped  at  The  Irving  House,  which  was  at  Broadway 
and  Twelfth  Street,  and  dined  at  Delmonico's,  that 
celebrated  shrine  of  epicures,  then  at  Fifth  Avenue  and 
Fourteenth  Street.  William  Winter,  who  was  then 
and  for  so  many  years  after,  a  dramatic  critic,  came 
up  and  talked  to  my  mother.  Later,  at  Daly's  Thea- 
tre, I  came  to  know  him  very  well.  We  then  went  to 
Wallack's  to  see  Lost  in  London.  Wallack's  was  at 
Broadway  and  Thirteenth  Street,  and  the  Rialto  had 
had  not  moved  so  far  north  as  Union  Square,  nor  had 
Palmer's  Theatre  in  Union  Square  been  built. 

In  Lost  in  London  Madelaine  Henriques  was  the 
leading  woman.  She  was  one  of  the  first  women  on 
the  American  stage  to  acquire  a  reputation  for  dress- 
ing parts  well.  The  part  of  Gilbert  Featherstone  was 
played  by  Charles  Fisher,  who  was  a  member  of  Augus- 
tin  Daly's  company  when  I  joined  it;  and  Charles 
Rockwell  and  I,  the  two  youngest  members  of  the  Daly 
company,  were  ushers  at  his  wedding  many  years  after- 
ward. 

My  mother's  company  at  the  Arch  Street  Theatre 
was  considered  a  very  good  one  and  ranked  with  Wal- 
lack's in  New  York.  The  company  remained  from 
year  to  year  much  the  same.  I  remember  a  few  of  the 
players:  Robert  Craig  was  first  comedian,  and  Lizzie 
Price,  who  married  that  famous  actor,  Charles  Fechter, 


,^^*: 'Tew  ^*%» 

, I  !■.  I II  i-irmi-iiiiini-nr-     i     n 

ACnva  AID  8TA0I  HAVAeSR.  .       '    WS.  8.  niDSRICKB 

BUSINESS  AGBHT  AID  TRIA8USXB,  '  JOS.  S.  ■TJSPET 


This  Saturday  EiTenlng,  Jane  ^£5, 1^64 


42dAND  LAST  NIGHT 


Ot  tlM  Oreatlf  SucCMrfgl  EogagtlDeDt  of 


FRllIK  DREf . 


mass  Bx  WILL  appeab  in 


Roaring  Characters!! 

Tb«  Pkrioimuces  vill  commencs  viib  the  Exeeneot  CooMdittl*  of 

DEUCATE  GROUND! 

BAVQIXOIO.         •  •         (Secood  Bsd  Lnt  Appniuioe,)>    ,  •  ■  ,     .     ^  nOOXX  ■lIKTTBiB 

ALPHOHSX,  *  •  .    I  •  Kr  ORAIS 

PAtJLINS,  -  •  •  '  •   Km  J08EPHIS£  HEV&T 


TWO  OF  THE  BOYS! 

HBOTOB.       .        |n.T,»B.^j  -  PEAKK  DHEW 

tiMfuaM,       •  '                   "J                          I  ■                    •                   .  •        Staart  Robaoo 

Mr  Bnuebanpk      •  •                  .Mr  Cnig  Cuoliae,        .    •              .  .           Wa  E.  fnet 

Mr  Batchclor,       .,.-  .                  .                 Mr  Wtllia  G|*u,                      .  .                    Mn  Ibrlow* 

Jtam,             .»  .  »    ■    -         •          Mr  StaO  Mra  TempkUm.  .        Mia  Mary  Ctrr 

fcbj^          ,'\            .;     _j' _  _ff Ht  Worth  I    Butar,          Mw  ^aMphiM  Hrafj 


30 


Um  «UA  tfe  Bulwtu  <t 


Or,  The  Merohant  of  Venice  Preserved. 

A*  Eiitlnl;  K«  B«*diag  «f  SUkqMn. 

SBYLOOK, FRANK  ORBW 


Antonio, 
BuMoio, 
Qntitoo, 
Tub*!, 


llrSull 

Ur  Waltoo 

Ur  Wtllis 

Mr  Cralt 

Mr  Wortb 


Loreoxo, 

Launcdott 

Poflia, 

^er4Ma, 

iemcm. 


Mr  Htnjui 

Still  rt  EoMoo 

MIm  Jooepkioe  RrvT 

Mn  Brdi<oii 

ITm  0>rifl*er 


Ttmucttit  wilb  Ux  Siilt  SpUtUsf  CootdioHs  tl 


m  mimmw^  mm 


MR.  TIMOTHY  BROWN, 


•  FRANK  DREW 


Mr  Joutlu*  Smilk, 

Mr  Soaertov. 

Un  Tmoth;  Brom, 


ftnait  BotiBoa  |    tin  JoDttbu  SoUb* 
Mr  Mvlowe  I    If  n  EoocrtoB, 
Mn  BreUbid  | 


Mr*  Morlovt 
Hi«B.PriM 


acoivis.A.'! 


i^m 


Tbe  t>1«D(eil  Trtgedinoe,  wilt  tan  the  konor  of  oukinft  ber  Fint  Appnrua  is  go  cntirtlTmw  SEH8  ATIOVAL 
SSAHik  adip'cd  and  imiignl  exprasly  for  Mre.  Beta  by  Oio.  Hiixowe,  Eiq.i  of  nikdelptua,  asmM 


tftf 


XDA  LBB' 


-eBoxxA  avsB 


SBAXS  ASB  FBIVATZ  BOZZS   SZCtmZD  TBBE£  DAYS  IH  ASTASCK 


Soors  open  qnarter^ast  7  o'clock.       Oommence  qaarter  of  &  predselv 

nuoBs  or  abnxsszom 

Puqnat  and  Draw  Cirel0,  -  60  Cnti 

VamUyClnle,  -  •        S5    " 

OidMftnSMtv.     .  •  -  W    *• 

TMT4teBoxMaoooi41ngtoaMrI«oaUty.  ■OEZTBA.C&ABaSK>BBECt7SXD8BAX8L 

v.  S.  Btaam-Fower  Job  Fdnt,  taiga  BBiUlnn,  FbUda. 


PLAYBILL,   ARCH 


STREET    THEATRE,    PHILADELPHIA,    I864 
31 


32  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

had  at  one  time  been  leading  woman  in  her  company. 
This  was  before  I  went  on  the  stage.  Fechter  lived 
at  Quakertown,  near  Philadelphia,  on  a  farm;  and  I 
saw  him  a  number  of  times  both  in  the  theatre  and  in 
the  country,  but  there  was  nothing  to  suggest  the  hand- 
some young  actor  who  had  been  the  first  Armand  Duval 
in  C  ami  lie. 

In  my  mother's  company  was  a  man  named  Frank 
Murdoch,  a  fine  actor,  who  contributed  to  stage  his- 
tory by  writing  that  famous  play,  Davy  Crockett. 
This  play,  which  established  Frank  Mayo  as  a  great 
favorite,  was  really  not  a  dramatization  of  the  life  of 
the  hero  of  the  Alamo.  The  big  scene  of  the  play  came 
when  Mayo  as  Davy  Crockett  put  his  arm  through 
the  place  in  the  door  where  an  oak  bar  should  have 
been  and  kept  the  howling,  hungry  wolves  out  of  the 
cabin. 

When  I  grew  older  and  was  allowed  to  go  behind  the 
scenes  and  talk  to  the  actors,  I  saw  a  great  deal  of 
Louis  James,  who  was  then  a  handsome  young  man, 
playing  leading  juvenile  and  understudying  the  lead- 
ing characters.  At  this  time  the  business  in  the  theatre 
was  all  according  to  very  definitely  defined  rules;  thus 
there  were  leading  men  and  leading  juveniles  and  first 
comedians  and  second  comedians,  old  men  and  second 
old  men,  first  old  women  and  second  old  women,  cham- 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  33 

bcrmaids,  now  soubrettes,  and  leading  women  and 
juvenile  women.  The  first  old  woman  might  be  any- 
thing, from  the  duchess  to  a  rag  picker,  but  there  was 
no  doubt  in  anyone's  mind  as  to  who  would  play  the 
part. 

When  stars  traveled  in  those  days,  they  did  so  with- 
out support — Edwin  Booth,  for  instance.  Booth  had, 
as  I  remember,  a  stage  manager  who  came  on  ahead  of 
the  star  and  told  the  theatre  exactly  what  was  wanted 
and  gave  special  instructions  for  the  playing  of  cer- 
tain scenes.  This  could  easily  be  done,  because  the 
lines  of  business  were  so  well  established.  Then,  too, 
in  those  early  days,  the  actors  studied  other  parts  than 
those  they  were  actually  required  to  play.  The  reper- 
toire was  standard  and  made  up  largely  of  the  plays 
of  Shakespeare  and  other  classics.  There  were  no  so- 
called  society  plays,  and  there  was  very  little  in  the 
theatre  that  had  anything  to  do  with  contemporary 
life.  To  study  any  one  line  of  business  was,  however, 
an  education  for  that  time,  and  all  the  actors  absorbed 
a  great  deal  of  the  classic  drama  and  the  things  that 
pertained  to  it. 


CHAPTER  FOUR 

WHEN  my  mother  took  over  the  management  of 
the  Arch  Street  Theatre,  it  was  all  renovated 
and  was  in  pretty  fair  condition  for  the  time,  but  it  had 
been  built  in  1827  and  had  an  unmistakable  theatre 
smell  that  was  unlike  anything  else.  I  do  not  know 
whether  this  came  from  the  gas  fumes  or  the  combin- 
ation of  the  gas  fumes  and  the  new  paint  on  the  scenery, 
for  there  was  always  fresh  paint  in  the  theatre  in  spite 
of  the  fact  that  the  scenery  was  not  elaborate  in  the 
sense  of  today.  A  good  deal  of  it  was  "flats"  which 
were  pushed  on  from  both  sides  and  met  in  the  center. 
One  half  might  be  a  cottage  and  the  other  a  green 
wood. 

Occasionally  there  was  a  play  that  was  called  "a 
production,"  and  required,  because  of  its  elaborateness, 
a  good  many  extra  rehearsals.  One  such,  called  Surf^ 
by  Olive  Logan,  I  remember  distinctly.  The  scene  was 
at  Cape  May,  then  a  fashionable  place  for  Philadel- 
phians  to  go.     Breakers  were  made  by  white  cotton 

cloth  and  barrels.     Just  how  it  was  arranged  I  do    j 

34 


JOHN  DREW  BEFORE   HE  WENT  ON 
THE  STAGE 


JOHN     DREW     AT     THE     TIME     OF 
HIS   FIRST   APPEARANCE 


ADA   REHAN    WHEN    SHE    APPEARED 
WITH    THE    ARCH    STREET    THE- 
ATRE   COMPANY 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  35 

not  know,  but  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  play  was 
rather  indifferent,  it  had  a  run  of  eight  weeks,  which 
at  that  time  was  considered  a  long  run.  Augustin 
Daly  bought  the  rights  for  New  York,  where  he  pro- 
duced it  with  some  share  of  success. 

A  day  in  the  Arch  Street  Theatre  started  with  a 
rehearsal  which  began  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  and 
lasted  about  four  hours.  Sometimes  when  the  bill 
was  changing  frequently  there  was  more  than  one  play 
to  rehearse.  The  afternoon  we  usually  had  to  our- 
selves for  study.  The  performance  began  at  eight,  and 
Saturdays  were  our  only  matinee  days. 

The  season  after  I  went  on  the  stage  a  new  young 
woman  was  introduced  to  the  company.  She  came  to 
the  theatre  with  her  sister,  whose  stage  name  was  Hat- 
tie  O'Neill.  Their  eldest  sister,  Mrs.  Oliver  Doud 
Byron,  had  written  to  my  mother  that  she  wanted  her 
sisters  to  play  in  the  Arch  Street  Theatre.  From  Mrs. 
Byron's  letter  my  mother  got  the  impression  that  the 
name  of  the  younger  sister  was  Ada  C.  Rehan  and, 
thinking  that  a  middle  initial  was  of  no  help  to  an 
actress,  she  had  the  name  put  in  the  bill  as  Ada  Rehan, 
although  actually  the  name  was  Ada  Crehan.  Ada 
made  a  hit,  and  so  by  this  accident  of  my  mother's  there 
was  named  for  all  time  in  the  theatre  an  actress  who 
was  to  be  the  Katherine  when  I  was  Petruchio  in  the 


36  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

wonderful  production  of  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew  at 
Daly's  Theatre  some  years  later. 

From  that  day  when  she  appeared  at  the  age  of  six- 
teen upon  the  stage  of  the  Arch  Street  Theatre,  I  al- 
ways had  the  most  wholehearted  admiration  and  affec- 
tion for  Ada  Rehan.  She  became  the  confidante  of  my 
sister,  Georgie,  who,  though  younger  than  myself,  had 
gone  upon  the  stage  before  I  had. 

Ada  Rehan  had  a  fault,  if  such  it  may  be  termed, 
which  might  have  been  a  deterrent  and  a  hindrance  to 
her  success  on  the  stage,  and  that  was  her  utter  inabil- 
ity to  keep  from  laughing  if  anything  seemed  at  all 
funny.  I  remember  that  in  one  of  the  first  plays  in 
which  we  first  appeared  together,  Kitty  O'Shiel,  I  was 
acting  a  red-coated  British  officer  of  the  Third  Geor- 
gian period,  and,  of  course,  I  wore  a  white  wig.  We 
did  not  have  dress  rehearsals  and  when  I  came  up 
to  her  on  the  stage  at  the  performance,  she  burst 
out  laughing  and  I  under  my  breath  tried  to  control 
her. 

When  we  came  off  the  stage  I  demanded  to  know 
what  was  the  matter. 

She  said:  "I  couldn't  help  it;  but  you  looked  like 
a  sheep." 

Ada  Rehan  never  quite  got  over  this  upsetting  ten- 
dency and  liking  for  the  ridiculous  at  serious  times. 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  37 

Years  afterward  we  were  rehearsing  at  Daly's  Thea- 
tre The  Foresters,  by  Tennyson.  In  one  scene  Maid 
Marian  had  to  say  to  Robin  Hood:  "Your  horn  is 
known  and  feared  through  the  forest." 

Each  time  she  would  say  this  I  covered  my  nose  up, 
and  it  set  her  laughing. 

Daly,  who  was  out  in  front,  was  always  annoyed 
when  rehearsals  were  interrupted.  The  next  time  we 
reached  this  same  line,  Maid  Marian  burst  into  un- 
controllable laughter,  and  it  was  some  minutes  before 
she  gained  her  equilibrium.  This  time  Daly  demanded 
to  know  what  was  funny  about  this  line  and,  when 
told  that  horn  and  nose  were  sometimes  synonymous, 
he  very  emphatically  told  Ada  to  cut  the  line  out  of 
her  part  if  she  could  not  give  it  without  laughing. 

By  that  time  the  amusement  that  it  caused  was  over, 
and  it  was  given  in  the  play.  It  scarcely  seems  a 
"funnyment"  now;  but  Ada  Rehan  was  so  much  a 
healthy,  good-natured  girl,  even  in  1892,  that  one  was 
apt  to  laugh  with  her. 

Somehow  we  did  not  take  ourselves  very  seriously 
in  the  days  at  my  mother's  theatre.  I  can  remember 
one  night — it  seems  now  the  humor  of  a  very  youthful 
schoolboy — filling  the  speaking  tube  which  ran  from 
the  prompter's  box  to  the  orchestra  leader  with  face 
powder.    Just  as  the  orchestra  was  about  to  play  the 


2' 


iiGiy 


38  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

overture  I  lured  the  prompter  from  his  place  and  then 
blew  through  the  tube  as  the  leader  answered  the  sig- 
nal. A  very  pale  and  much  whitened  orchestra  leader 
received  a  great  laugh  from  his  men  and  the  people 
sitting  down  front. 

As  three  or  four  other  young  people  in  the  company 
were  accused  in  turn,  I  had  to  own  up.  The  calling 
down  that  I  got  from  an  infuriated  manager-mother 
had  better  be  left  to  the  imagination. 

That  same  season  Frank  Chanfrau  came  to  Phila- 
delphia to  play  his  celebrated  character  of  Kit  in  The 
Arkansas  Traveler^  supported  by  the  Arch  Street  Thea- 
tre Company.  Ada  Rehan,  her  sister,  Hattie  O'Neill, 
Georgie  and  I  all  played  in  this  piece.  Chanfrau  was 
related  by  marriage  to  Alexina  Fisher  Baker.  Mrs. 
Baker  was  a  great  friend  of  my  mother's  and  had  also 
been  something  of  an  infant  prodigy  or,  as  Dickens' 
Mr.  Vincent  Crummies  would  say,  an  "infant  phe- 
nomenon." My  sisters  and  I  had  known  the  Baker 
children,  Josephine,  who  in  September,  1880,  became 
my  wife,  and  Lewis,  almost  from  early  childhood,  and 
Mrs.  Baker  was  naturally  interested  in  my  career. 

After  the  first  night  of  Kit^  Chanfrau  returned  to 
her  house,  where  he  was  stopping,  and  Mrs.  Baker 
asked  him  how  I  was. 


From  Theatre  Collection,  Harvard   Univcrsitn. 

JOSEPHINE    BAKER    (mRS.    JOHN    DREw) 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  39 

"Oh,  very  bad,"  he  answered. 

Each  night  thereafter  she  would  ask  him  and  he 
would  say:     "Worse." 

Finally,  one  night  without  being  questioned,  he  ex- 
I  ploded :  "Oh,  worse  than  ever.  There  is  a  red-headed 
girl  that  he  is  making  love  to  so  much  of  the  time 
that  he  cannot  remember  his  cues." 

The  red-headed  girl  was  Ada  Rehan's  sister  and, 
while  talking  to  her  in  the  wings,  I  had  missed  a  very 
important  cue.  My  part  in  The  Arkansas  Traveler 
was  that  of  Lord  Fitzfoley,  one  of  those  preposterous 
imitations  of  a  traveling  Englishman  with  an  equally 
preposterous  valet. 

Chanfrau,  as  Kit,  was  in  a  violent  bowie-knife  fight 
with  Manuel  Bond,  the  bad  man  of  the  piece.  I  was 
to  fire  the  shot  from  off  stage  which  kills  the  bad  man. 
There  was  no  shot,  and  he  was  forced  to  die  without 
it. 

To  record  that  Chanfrau  was  annoyed  is  to  put  the 
matter  mildly. 

The  next  season  Ada  Rehan  went  to  Albany  to  play, 
and  I  to  New  York.  Charles  Morton,  the  stage  mana- 
ger of  the  Arch  Street  Theatre,  had  written  a  play, 
called  Women  of  the  Day.  In  this  I  had  a  very  fine, 
light  comedy  role,  and  Daly  seems  to  have  been  im- 


40  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

pressed  by  my  work.  His  company  was  playing  in 
Philadelphia  at  the  time,  and  he  wrote  my  mother  and 
asked  her  if  she  would  allow  me  to  join  him. 

From  her  he  bought  the  rights  to  produce  Women 
of  the  Day  in  New  York,  and  when  it  was  played  there 
James  Lewis,  who  was  later  to  become  my  best  friend, 
played  my  part. 

In  spite  of  the  attention  that  this  play  attracted,  it 
does  not  seem  to  have  been  any  considerable  success  in 
Philadelphia,  for  during  the  run  of  the  piece  the 
North  American  said: 

It  is  not  complimentary  to  the  liberal  intelli- 
gence of  the  play-going  public  that  Mr.  Morton's 
new  play  at  the  Arch  Street  Theatre  should  have 
met  with  but  indifferent  patronage.  The  author 
has  written  it  with  much  cleverness,  and  the  dia- 
logue is  entirely  free  from  any  taint  of  vulgarity. 
So  far  as  the  strength  of  the  company  permits  the 
cast  is  a  strong  one,  and  altogether  the  perform- 
ance is  thoroughly  pleasing.  We  have  already 
spoken  of  the  excellence  of  one  or  two  of  the 
performers,  and  to  the  list  we  wish  to  add  the 
name  of  young  John  Drew.  His  improvement 
within  the  last  year  has  been  very  marked,  and 
in  his  present  character  we  think  he  shows  a  de- 
gree of  ease  and  self-possession  which  give 
promise  of  some  high  rank  in  his  profession 
in  the  future.  The  piece  is  really  worth  seeing, 
and  Mr.  Drew  is  not  the  least  attractive  feature 
of  it. 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  41 

I  talked  over  Daly's  offer  wth  my  mother.  I  think 
that  she  had  become  convinced  by  my  work  in  Women 
of  the  Day  that  I  might  have  a  career  on  the  stage,  and 
she  advised  me  to  accept  the  offer.  Some  time  early 
in  January,  1875,  I  went  to  New  York  and  reported 
for  rehearsal  at  the  green  room  of  the  Fifth  Avenue 
Theatre,  which  was  then  as  now  at  Broadway  and 
Twenty-eighth  Street. 

I  was  ushered  into  a  handsome  room  filled  with 
paintings,  engravings  and  mezzotints  of  the  people  of 
the  theatre.  Fanny  Davenport,  Mrs.  Gilbert,  James 
Lewis,  Sarah  Jewett,  George  Parkes  and  others  were 
sitting  there. 

John  Moore,  the  stage  manager,  introduced  me  in  a 
casual  way:  "Ladies  and  gentlemen,  this  is  Mr. 
Drew." 

I  was  very  lonely  that  first  day.  I  fancied  that  the 
others  wondered  why  I  was  there.  George  Parkes  was 
the  first  to  speak  to  me,  and  then  Jim  Lewis  came  over 
and  introduced  himself. 

The  first  play  to  be  done  was  The  Big  Bonanza^ 
which  Daly  had  adapted  from  a  German  play.  I  had 
not  met  Augustin  Daly  in  Philadelphia,  and  I  did  not 
meet  him  until  the  actual  call  for  rehearsal  was  given 
that  day. 


CHAPTER  FIVE 

WHEN  I  joined  the  company  at  the  Fifth  Ave- 
nue Theatre,  Augustin  Daly  was  in  the  late 
thirties.  He  had  been  in  theatrical  management  about 
thirteen  years  and  had  already  had  a  varied,  if  not 
always  successful,  career.  With  his  own  play,  Under 
the  Gaslight — the  first  play  in  which  a  person  is  tied 
to  the  railroad  tracks  only  to  be  released  just  as  the 
locomotive  appears  on  the  stage — he  had  made  con- 
siderable money  at  the  Old  New  York  Theatre.  In 
1875  he  was  confirmed  in  his  ideas,  and  he  possessed 
the  courage  of  his  convictions  to  an  extraordinary  de- 
gree. He  was  always  willing  to  fight  for  the  things 
he  wanted,  and  he  had  a  determination  that  seemed 
at  variance  with  his  slight  build. 

Even  at  this  time  Daly  had  adopted  the  famous 
black  hat  which  he  wore  upon  all  occasions.  The 
somewhat  conical  shape  of  the  crown  accentuated  his 
slimness.  These  hats  seem  to  have  been  standardized, 
and  one  followed  another  without  noticeable  change. 

Richard,    Daly's   faithful    black   servant,    who   had 

42 


From   Theatre   CoUcction,   lUnvard    T'nlrrrxit ii. 


JAMES  LEWIS  AND   JOHN   DREW  IN   AUGUSTIN   DALY  S  PLAY,      PIQUE 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  43 

nothing  special  to  do  in  the  theatre  and  was  seldom  out 
of  it,  received  the  discarded  hats.  Years  after  Daly- 
was  dead  I  noticed  one  of  these  on  a  figure  ahead  of 
me  in  Sixth  Avenue.  It  was  Richard,  and  he  still  held 
his  head  very  proudly. 

During  the  early  rehearsals  of  The  Big  Bonanza^ 
Daly  was  often  impatient  with  the  actors.  He  was 
tireless  in  the  theatre  and  seldom  went  elsewhere.  He 
was  an  excellent  producer  of  plays,  and  he  knew  how 
to  manage  his  stage.  I  think  that  his  countless  re- 
hearsals had  much  to  do  with  the  smoothness  of  the 
plays,  for  by  the  time  a  play  reached  production,  it 
was  cut  and  dried  and  there  was  no  need  for  a  tryout 
at  Atlantic  City  or  some  other  place  near  New  York 
to  find  out  what  the  play  was  like. 

Jim  Lewis  used  to  refer  often  to  a  conversation 
that  he  said  he  had  with  Daly. 

"And  where  would  you  be  if  you  weren't  in  the 
theatre  rehearsing'?"  the  manager  was  supposed  to  have 
asked. 

"Oh,  out  somewhere  enjoying  ourselves,"  was  Lewis* 
reply  in  the  conversation  that  he  had  invented. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  we  were  all  young  and  there 
was  no  reason  whatever  why  we  should  not  have  re- 
hearsed at  ten  o'clock  every  day.  But  if  in  dealing 
with  us  he  was  not  always  patient,  Daly  did  have  the 


-L 


DAITS  FIFTH  AYEinJE   TEEATEE. 


MR.  AUGUSTIN   DALY, 


Proprietor  and   Manager 


ItejfiHJi  at  8  pr^^tsetjf,      i'tirrl'ta^*  watf  b^  orHer*^  for  10.30  ^etoek, 

TWENTY-SIXTH    \VECK-6th    SEASON. 
WEDNESDAY  NIGHT,  FEBEUAEY  17th,  Ur-j5 

FIRST  PRODUCTION  OF  AN  ORiniMAL  SOCIEFT  NOVELTY,  wrltteo  eiprcMly 
(or  tblE  Tbentre.  ana  eDCUled 

THE  BIG  BillANZA 

To  be  pie«CDted  ofler  CAREFUL   PREPARATION,  wiU)  Jlew  Scenei  bj  KB. 

JARGS   ROBERTS  ud   MR.  CHARLES  ^.  WITBAU  ;    New  Fublooible 

Tolletiee;  Dew  PnrcnnrealasKxIe  ;  ^ew  Hartc  bjDODWOhTB,  tod  a 

Cast  that  iDcladee  ALL  TBS  FAVORITE  ARTISTS, 

JonathaD  Ca^Ta11llder,  Esq.,  Banker,  Broker  and  Bondholder  ;  is  f  lOt, 

the  representative  of  "Money," Mr.  Charles  Fisber 

Professor  Cavallader,  hisCoasis,  an  "  A.  M,"  "M.  8."  ''F.  G.  a." 
4c.,  ic. ;  in  fcct,  the  Teprose->t«ll»e  of  "  Brains,". .  ,Mr.  James  Levis 

Uncle  Rjmple,  a  sagacious  old  son! Mr.  W.  Davidge 

Bob  Raggles,  straight  from  the  Big  Bonanza,  (his  first  appearance 

here) Mr.  John  Drew 

Jack  Ljmer,  M  D.,  in  want  of  practic!>nd  a  patient  Mr.  B.  T.  Bioggold 
Mr.  AIpbonsQS  De  Hass,  »  seioB  of  the  ancient  bmil;  of  De  Haaea. . 

Mr.  George  Parkes 

MoDser,  a  part;  who  lires  b;  fumiahing  "  Points,* lit.  Oven  Fawcett 

Crampets,  a  valuable  family  retainer Mr.  J.  W.  Jennings 

Tafferty.  Upholsterer Mr.  W.  Beekmaa 

Izard,  Cashier Mr.  J.  Deveaa 

John,  Porter , Mr.  SoJliTan 

Mr&  Lncretia  Cawallader,  wife  of  the  Banker,  vitb  a  eonl  above 

money Mias  &nniA.Grib»m 

Eugenia,  her  daughter,  heroine  of  a  romance  beginning  at  the  depot 

and  lasting  for  eight  blocks  nilh  iinexpected  results 

Miss  Fannv  Davenport 
Mr.  Ctroline  Cavatlader,  wife  of  the  Professor,  with  a  eonl  above 

science Mrs.  G.  H.  Gilbert 

Virgie,  her  daughter,  heroine  of  a  romance  tinged  with  dissolving 

views Mis*  Emily  Eigl 

Mile.  De  Vinoey,  "  Modes  Parisieno^" Miss  Varian 

Balder,  with  a  ■■  Floor  to  Let," Mies  Nellie  Mortimer 

Eliza,  a  maid  at  the  Banker's MissGr.fflths 


AT   1.30,  of 


'.*  1U>K  Shoot  now  opou  lor  ten  dnys!  aliead- 

MIL  A.   I.  UOOAKTs  PATENT  FLKCTWrAL  0*»  LIOBTIHO  APPABAIX'S  It 

riul>1>>y,->l  ttt  liclitiiic  •InmUaUrtilplT  all  of  Ibe  i^aa  ieU  of  tbi,  tb  atT*. 


-.f  Tl>.'  t'tLKBKATED  DEl'KEB   PIA>IOS  are  tbc  on)];  Plasoa  atei 
at  lbi«  Tb.-ctri-. 


llC:>lMi^S  MAMAGBB. 


.  Ml.  8TErBE.N  mxK 


From  Theatre  Collection,  Harvard  University. 
JOHN    DREw's    FIRST    APPEARANCE    IN    NEW    YORK 

44 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  45 

interest  of  his  theatre  at  heart  and  for  many  years  he 
maintained  a  standard  of  production  and  acting  that 
has  lasted  in  the  minds  of  old  theatregoers. 

After  the  first  day  of  rehearsal  of  The  Big  Bonanza, 
my  shyness  wore  off  somewhat  and  I  felt  less  lonely. 
I  was  cast  ior  Bob  Ruggles,  a  young  and  impecunious 
lover  of  the  heroine,  the  part  to  be  played  by  Fanny 
Davenport.  Daly  was  disappointed  because  I  could 
not  play  the  piano.  I  had  taken  lessons  from  one  of 
the  women  of  the  Arch  Street  Theatre  Company  when 
I  was  quite  young,  but  I  had  not  been  encouraged  to 
keep  up  studying,  and  I  never  really  got  beyond  the 
"When-a-feller-needs-a-friend"  stage  of  the  Briggs 
cartoon.  In  the  first  play  in  New  York  I  went  through 
all  the  motions  of  piano  playing  while  some  one  played 
off  stage. 

The  Big  Bonanza  turned  out  to  be  a  bright  and 
amusing  play,  and  was  a  great  success.  It  would  seem 
very  thin  now,  this  story  of  the  aged  bookworm  who 
gets  his  market  tips  from  a  secondhand  bookseller  who 
has  a  stall  in  Wall  Street.  When  told  to  sell  "Big 
Bonanza,"  he  buys  it  because  he  has  none  to  sell. 

The  New  York  papers  were  kind  to  me  upon  my 
debut.  The  Times  said :  "Mr.  John  Drew,  of  Phila- 
delphia, made  his  first  appearance  in  this  city.  Proof 
that  Mr.  Drew  is  still  a  novice  was  not  wanting  but  an 


46  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

agreeable  freedom  from  affectation  and  a  frank  and 
welcome  heartiness  of  style  were  perceptible  in  his 
effort  here  and  augured  well  for  his  future."  The 
Evening  Mail's  comment  was:  "He  acts  with  intel- 
ligence and  energy  and  although  by  no  means  a  para- 
gon gives  promise  of  marked  excellence." 

Daly  had  adapted  The  Big  Bonanza  from  the  Ger- 
man play  Ultimo,  by  Von  Mosher.  He  had  made 
many  adaptations  from  the  German,  and  it  was  from 
this  source  that  he  got  some  of  his  biggest  successes 
in  later  years,  Nancy  and  Company,  A  Night  Oif,  and 
The  Railroad  of  Love.  This  play  brought  together 
three  of  the  performers  who  were  later  to  be  associated 
in  so  many  plays,  Mrs.  Gilbert,  James  Lewis  and  my- 
self. With  the  addition  of  Ada  Rehan  we  later  became 
what  was  jestingly  known  as  "The  Big  Four" — named 
from  the  railroad.  The  program  of  the  Fifth  Avenue 
Theatre  contained  this  announcement: 

The  Big  Bonanza  is  the  second  of  the  series  of 
contemporaneous  comedies  with  which  Mr.  Daly 
follows  his  season  of  old  comedy  revivals.  The 
comedy  is  placed  upon  the  stage  under  Mr.  Daly's 
personal  superintendence,  with  new  scenery,  new 
toilettes,  new  furniture,  and  appointments.  The 
cast  embraces  the  favorite  artists  of  the  company, 
and  introduces  to  the  New  York  public  Mr.  John 
Drew,  who,  aside  from  his  own  merits,  ought  to 


[ 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  47 

be  welcome  on  account  of  the  fame  of  his  mother, 
the  celebrated  Philadelphia  actress  and  manager- 
ess, and  the  memory  of  his  father,  who  was  one 
of  the  Irish  comedians  of  the  day. 

During  the  run  of  The  Big  Bonanza  the  Daly  Com- 
pany played  a  special  holiday  matinee  in  Philadelphia 
and  returned  to  play  the  night  performance  as  usual. 
According  to  The  Philadelphia  Age  the  trip  was  made 
"without  accident  of  any  sort." 

In  June,  Daly  decided,  having  made  a  pronounced 
success  with  The  Big  Bonanza^  to  make  a  trip  across 
the  continent.  Chicago  was  our  first  stop.  We  took 
with  us,  not  only  our  New  York  success,  but  a  number 
of  other  plays.  There  was  Boucicault's  London  Assur- 
ance; Byron's  Weak  Women^  which  had  been  done  by 
the  company  before  I  joined;  a  popular  farce.  The 
Rough  Diamond;  Gilbert's  Charity^  and  a  version  of 
Oliver  TzvisL  Fanny  Davenport  was  very  fond  of 
the  last  two,  as  they  gave  her  character  roles  which 
were  a  contrast  to  the  well-dressed,  light-comedy  char- 
acters that  made  up  most  of  the  Daly  repertoire.  On 
this  tour  we  also  played  Bronson  Howard's  famous 
play,  Saratoga,  with  which,  under  the  title  of  Brighton, 
Charles  Wyndham  made  so  great  a  hit  in  England. 

San  Francisco  in  1875  was  a  live  town.    We  stayed 


48  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

at  the  Occidental,  and  on  July  twelfth  we  opened  with 
London  Assurance  in  Piatt's  Hall.  According  to  the 
playbill  of  that  night,  this  play  was  to  be  "As  repre- 
sented at  the  Fifth  Avenue  Theatre  to  crowded  and 
laughter-convulsed  audiences."  Also  from  the  play- 
bill: "The  new  scenery  to  be  unfolded  this  evening 
will  be  found  in  Act  2 — The  park,  and  in  Act  3 — 
Oak  Hall,  Gloucestershire,"  It  turned  out  that  there 
was  little  room  for  all  this  scenery  and  after  two 
nights  we  moved  to  Emerson's  Minstrel  Hall. 

The  Big  Bonanza  was  not  a  success  here,  for  Crane 
and  James  O'Neill  had  already  played  another  ver- 
sion of  the  same  play.  We  visited  Chinatown  and 
saw  some  of  the  interminable  plays  in  the  Chinese 
Theatre,  at  least  we  were  told  that  one  of  the  plays 
that  we  saw  had  still  some  days  to  go.  Outwardly 
Chinatown  was  a  very  different  place  from  the  place 
that  I  saw  on  numerous  later  trips. 

In  San  Francisco  I  met  John  McCullough,  who 
was  running  the  California  Theatre  on  regular  stock 
lines,  playing  the  usual  plays  that  were  popular  at  the 
time.  On  this  first  trip  I  met  John  Mackay,  the  father 
of  Clarence  Mackay,  and  James  Fair,  of  the  celebrated 
mining  outfit,  Mackay,  Fair,  Flood  and  O'Brien.  They 
owned  the  Consolidated  Virginia  Mine  in  Virginia 
City,  Nevada. 


OFFICE. 


IN  THIS  GROUP  ARE  MRS.  GILBERT,  MISS  DAVENPORT,  MISS  JEFFRYS 
LEWIS,  JAMES  LEWIS,  AUGUSTIN  DALY,  AND  JOHN  DREW,  MADE  UP  IN 
WORKING  CLOTHES,  AT  THE  ENTRANCE  TO  THE  CONSOLIDATED  VIR- 
GINIA  MINE 


From  Theatre  Collection,  Harvard   Univcrsitu. 
FANNY  DAVENPORT 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  49 

We  visited  the  mine,  and  there  is  a  picture  of  Mrs. 
Gilbert,  Miss  Davenport,  Miss  Jeffrys  Lewis,  James 
Lewis,  Augustin  Daly  and  myself  at  the  entrance  to 
the  mine,  all  made-up  in  workingmen's  clothes.  We 
went  down  to  the  depth  of  some  two  thousand  feet, 
and  then  to  some  lower  level  on  a  very  small  lift.  It 
was  very  warm  in  this  big  silver  mine,  and  Mr.  Fair 
had  a  man  following  us  with  iced  champagne  and  we 
stopped  to  partake  now  and  then. 

Virginia  City  was  really  impressive  to  us  in  those 
days.  It  was  crude  and  new,  and  the  streets  were 
crowded  with  men;  but  they  were  most  deferential  and 
respectful  to  the  women  of  our  company.  There  was 
an  Indian  reservation  near  there,  and  we  saw  a  fight 
between  a  white  man  and  an  Indian.  Neither  had  any 
idea  of  science,  but  the  crowd  did  not  seem  to  mind, 
and  the  combatants  dealt  each  other  horrible  blows. 
The  white  man  finally  overcame  the  Indian  who,  we 
were  assured,  was  in  no  way  hostile,  and  the  fight  was 
purely  a  personal  affair. 

On  our  way  back  East  we  played  in  Salt  Lake  City. 
The  theatre,  which  had  been  built  in  the  late  fifties  or 
early  sixties,  was  a  very  fine  one.  I  have  played  in  the 
same  house  many  times  since,  and  it  has  always  been, 
as  then,  well  run  and  well  cared  for ;  but  in  those  days 
it  had  a  big,  fine  green  room,  which  was  later  changed 


so  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

into  a  dressing  room.  In  this  theatre,  when  it  was 
the  home  of  a  stock  company,  Maude  Adams'  mother, 
whose  real  name  was  Kiskadden,  played  leading 
women  for  many  years. 

Curiously  enough,  the  play  selected  for  our  opening 
bill  in  Salt  Lake  City  was  Bronson  Howard's  Sara- 
toga. Elsewhere  the  complications  resulting  from  the 
pursuit  of  the  hero.  Bob  Sackett,  by  three  infatuated 
women  had  been  considered  excruciatingly  funny,  but 
the  Mormons,  as  Brigham  Young  himself  pointed  out 
to  us,  would  have  solved  a  problem  like  Sacketfs  so 
easily  that  there  would  have  been  no  play. 

The  day  after  we  opened.  Miss  Davenport,  Mrs. 
Gilbert,  Jim  Lewis  and  Mrs.  Lewis,  Daly  and  I  went 
to  call  upon  Brigham  Young,  who  gave  us  a  sort  of 
audience  at  his  official  residence.  He  seemed  a  famil- 
iar figure  and  looked  very  much  like  his  pictures,  ex- 
cept that  he  was  older  and  somewhat  feeble,  and  he 
had  a  growth  or  goiter  that  was  said  to  have  been 
caused  by  drinking  snow  water  from  the  mountains. 
Of  course  this  must  have  been  false,  for  the  water  was 
perfectly  pellucid. 

He  expressed  a  great  deal  of  interest  in  our  work 
and  particularly  in  the  play,  Saratoga.  "But  why," 
he  asked,  turning  to  Lewis,  who  played  the  part  of 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  51 

Bob  Sackett,  the  pursued  hero,  "should  the  author  have 
made  such  a  complication  out  of  the  efforts  of  your 
character  to  get  away  from  the  three  women  who  are 
in  love  with  him?" 

Jim  Lewis  was  somewhat  puzzled  by  the  question. 
"What  else,"  he  asked,  "could  Sackett  do  but  try  to 
escape?" 

"Marry  them  all,"  was  Brigham  Young's  answer. 

He  said  this  so  seriously  that  none  of  us  knew 
whether  he  meant  his  solution  as  a  wheeze  or  not,  and 
we  talked  of  other  things. 

He  told  us  that  when  he  was  a  young  man  he  could 
speak  with  such  distinctness  and  with  so  much  volume 
that  he  could  be  heard  for  great  distances.  I  hesitate 
to  guess  now  what  these  figures  were,  but  they  were 
very  impressive,  even  taking  into  consideration  the 
rarified  atmosphere.  Our  visit  to  Brigham  Young  was 
not  so  profitable  in  experience,  nor  did  it  yield  so  much 
material  as  Artemus  Ward  got  out  of  his  visit  to  the 
Mormons. 

The  manager  of  the  hotel  in  Salt  Lake  City  pro- 
vided us  with  excellent  horses,  and  we  rode  round  on 
these  to  see  the  surrounding  country.  We  visited 
Camp  Douglas,  which  had  been  established  as  an  army 
post  when  the  Mormons  proved  rebellious.     It  was 


52  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

here  that  I  first  met  General  Sheridan,  who  was  then 
on  a  tour  of  inspection. 

Before  we  left  we  played  The  Rough  Diamond,  and 
the  Salt  Lake  City  papers  made  much  of  a  line  that 
Lewis  interpolated.  As  I  looked  young  for  the  char- 
acter I  was  to  play,  I  made  up  with  a  very  elaborate 
beard. 

As  I  came  on  the  stage  Lewis  who  had  a  way  of  inter- 
polating lines  naturally  and  still  letting  the  audience 
in  on  the  joke,  said:  "Here  comes  the  Prince  of 
Wales."  He  who  was  later  Edward  the  Seventh  had 
made  the  wearing  of  a  beard  the  fashion  in  the  early 
seventies  and  the  jest,  though  feeble,  went  well  in 
Salt  Lake  City. 

I  remember  another  occasion,  some  years  afterward, 
when  Lewis,  annoyed  at  having  to  play  on  Sunday 
in  Chicago,  took  a  great  many  liberties  with  the  text 
of  his  part.  The  seats  down  front  were  all  occupied 
by  circus  people,  who  did  not  have  to  work  on  Sunday. 
They  had  come  to  see  a  former  colleague,  Miss  Rose 
Stokes,  who  appeared  in  one  scene  where  there  was  a 
Maypole  dance.  She  had  been  a  rider,  but  after 
an  accident  had  given  up  the  tanbark  ring  for  the 
stage. 

Charles  Fisher  played  an  old  man  and  wore  white, 
muttonchop  sidewhiskers.    He  was  just  about  to  make 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  53 

a  dignified  entrance  when  Lewis  who  was  on  the  stage 
called  to  him,  "Walk  right  in,  Mr.  Forepaugh." 

The  circus  people  were  delighted  and  stopped  the 
play  for  some  minutes.  In  truth,  Fisher  looked  not 
unlike  the  dignified  kindly  old  gentleman  whose  pic- 
tures adorned  circus  bills  for  many  years. 


CHAPTER   SIX 

IN  October  of  that  year  we — that  is,  the  Daly  Com- 
pany— appeared  with  Edwin  Booth.  The  season 
had  been  postponed,  as  Booth  had  been  thrown  from 
a  carriage,  and  when  he  first  appeared  at  rehearsals  his 
arm  was  in  a  sling.  In  Hamlet,  Charles  Fisher  was 
Polonius;  William  Davidge,  the  Grave  Digger;  Har- 
kins,  the  Ghost;  Hardenberg,  the  King;  Maurice  Bar- 
rymore,  who  was  soon  after  to  be  my  brother-in-law, 
Laertes;  Jeffrys  Lewis,  Ophelia;  and  Alice  Grey,  the 
Queen.    I  played  Rosencrantz. 

Of  my  performance  the  only  criticism  I  can  remem- 
ber is  that  of  William  Winter,  who  wrote :  "The  gen- 
tleman who  played  Rosencrantz  evidently  had  an  en- 
gagement with  a  friend  after  the  performance,  so 
hurried  was  his  speech  and  so  evident  his  desire  to  get 
through  with  his  part."  In  those  days  I  was  very  much 
inclined  to  speak  too  rapidly. 

Of  that  long  cast  only  Jeffrys  Lewis  and  I  are  alive 

today.     A  few  years  ago,  when  The  Scrap  of  'Paper 

was  staged  at  the  Empire  Theatre,  Miss  Lewis  played 

54 


DALY'S  FIFTH  AVENUE  THEATRE. 

MR.  AUGUSTIN  DALY.        -        •        -        -         Sole  Proprietor  and  Manager* 

Begins  at  8  pre«4«ely.  Carriages  majr  be  ordered  foi  II  o'clock. 

SBVENTH   SBASON TUinT££NTU   WEEE 

84th  to  9l3t  PERrOBMiSWCE. 

Mr.  Daly  has  pleasure  in  introducing 
For  the  First  Time  in  this  Theatre,  and  for  the  First  lime  in  New  York  aincfi  2  years. 

i^anddg  ^vetiinq,  §ct  25, 1875, 

win  be  presented,  after  elaborate  and  costly  preparation,  Shakespeare's  Tragic  PIbj;>  Iq: 

6  Acts,  entitled 

HAMLETI 

With 
MR.  EDWIN  BOOTH... as... HAMLET,  PRINCE  OF  DENMARK 

And  the  following  very  strong  distribution  of  the  other  characters :  ' 

Mr.  Charles  Fiaber M    PoloniuB 

Mr.D.  H.  Harkins as Tne  Ghost 

Mr.  Hardenberg as The  King 

Mr.  W.Davidge ••  as,..,^, The  Gravedigger 

Mr.  Maurice  Barrymore as    Laertes 

Mr.  George  Paikes as Osrio 

Mr.  B.  T.  Ringgold as HoraUo 

Mr.  John  Drew as ^  Rosencrantz 

Mr.JohuMoore as First  Player 

Mr  ForrcBt as..., Guiidenstern 

Mr.  Deveau - as Second  Player 

Mr.  Hamilton as Marcella? 

Mr.  Beekmon -» -. .-. as Bernardd* 

Mr.  Evans as  Francisco 

Mr.  Hastings as Second  Gravedigger 

Monks,  Lords,  Ladies,  Pages,  Etc. 

Miss  Jeffreys  Lewis as^ « Ophelia 

Miss  Alice  Grey -  •  as ••  The  Quean 

MlsaGrffiiths ,,.8S...  ...   .,.^ FiratActresa 


IN    "hamlet"    with    BOOTH 


55 


56  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

the  old  woman's  role.  In  that  revival,  my  niece,  Ethel 
Barrymore,  was  Suzanne,  and  I,  Prosper. 

During  this  engagement  in  the  fall  of  1875,  Booth 
played  Richard  II.  I  had  great  pride  and  satisfaction, 
because  I  was  on  the  stage  with  him  in  the  last  scene. 
It  fell  to  me  as  Sir  Fierce  of  Exton  to  stab  him  in  the 
back,  and  I  can  remember  even  now  my  great  nervous- 
ness for  fear  that  I  might  actually  stick  this  great  man 
instead  of  merely  pretendmg  to  stab  him. 

In  one  of  the  scenes  Richard  calls  for  a  mirror  and 

reads : 

A  brittle  glory  shineth  in  this  face: 
As  brittle  as  the  glory  is  the  face. 

Then  he  throws  the  glass  down  and  it  is  supposed  to 
be  dashed  to  pieces.  On  the  first  night,  instead  of 
falling  flat  on  the  stage,  the  mirror  struck  on  the  side 
and  flew  out  into  the  audience.  I  was  playing  Lord 
Willoughby  in  this  scene,  doubling  this  character  with 
Sir  Fierce  of  Exton.  No  one  could  tell  how  the  thing 
happened. 

Booth's  performance  was  touching  and  beautiful  as 
this  intellectual,  but  despondent  and  superstitious  king. 
With  him  it  was  always  a  favorite  role.  It  had  some- 
times been  played  by  his  father  and  Edmund  Kean 
and  Macready  gave  it  occasionally  but  Richard  II 
has  on  the  whole  been  neglected  in  the  theatre. 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  57 

The  action  being  largely  political  and  possessing 
little  of  theatrical  effectiveness  the  play  did  not  prove 
popular  when  the  Daly  company  appeared  in  it  in 
support  of  Edwin  Booth.  Writing  of  this  engagement 
in  his  biography  of  his  brother,  Augustin,  Judge  Daly 
records  that  while  Hamlet  drew  average  nightly  re- 
ceipts of  $1855;  four  performances  of  Richard  II  aver- 
aged only  $73 1 . 

In  Othello,  with  Booth,  I  played  the  part  of  Lodo- 
vico^  Maurice  Barrymore  was  Cassio,  Jeffrys  Lewis 
was  Desdemona  and  as  Booth  played  I  ago,  Harkins 
was  Othello. 

At  the  rehearsals  of  Richelieu,  in  which  I  was  to  play 
Frangois,  I  was  extremely  nervous.  Frangois  is  the 
character  that  Richelieu  sends  to  get  the  paper  con- 
taining the  names  of  the  plotters,  Gaston,  Orleans  and 
the  others.  Franfois  is  also  the  character  to  whom  the 
famous  lines  are  spoken: 

In  the  lexicon  of  youth,  which  fate  reserves 
For  a  bright  manhood,  there  is  no  such  word 
As  "fail." 

When  Franfois  returns  with  the  important  paper 
which  will  confound  all  those  who  have  plotted  against 
the  king,  he  kneels  and  says:  "My  lord,  I  have  not 
failed."    For  some  reason  or  other  I  said:  "My  liege." 

Booth  said :    "Don't  say  that :  it  isn't  'my  liege.'  " 


58  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

During  rehearsals  I  made  the  same  mistake  several 
times.  Edwin  Booth  was,  as  always,  gentle  and  kind, 
and  fortunately  when  the  actual  performance  came  I 
spoke  the  line  correctly. 

I  played  Francis^  in  The  Stranger^  with  Booth. 
Francis  is  what  is  known  in  the  business  as  a  "liny" 
part.  By  that  we  mean  that  the  speeches  are  very 
short,  broken  lines.  They  have  no  semblance  of  con- 
tinuity and  are  constantly  interrupted  by  the  other 
characters.  Almost  every  actor,  particularly  the  young 
actor,  has  had  difficulties  with  a  part  of  the  sort.  When 
I  played  Francis  with  Booth  I  had  a  good  memory, 
and  I  thought  that  I  had  mastered  the  broken  speeches. 
During  the  performance  I  tripped  a  number  of  times, 
and  when  I  apologized  to  Booth  afterwards  he  was 
very  gentle,  very  nice.  He  patted  me  on  the  shoulder. 
Evidently  he  had  been  through  it  himself,  or  perhaps 
he  had  seen  many  others  go  wrong  in  this  thankless 
role. 

I  thought  that  I  had  done  with  The  Stranger  for- 
ever, but  some  years  after,  in  London,  Maurice  Barry- 
more  and  I  went  to  Kings  Cross  Station  to  take  a  train 
for  the  country.  We  were  ahead  of  time  and  near 
the  station  was  a  small  theatre  with  alluring  bills.  We 
decided  to  kill  half  an  hour  with  W  alb  erg,  the  Avenger. 
The  play  was  on  when  we  entered,  and  it  seemed 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  59 

strangely  familiar.  It  turned  out  to  be  the  old  fash- 
ioned play,  The  Stranger.  Barrymore  remembered 
that  in  this  piece  one  of  the  characters  refers  to  The 
Stranger  by  his  right  name  which  was  Walberg.  The 
actor  playing  this  character  was  unusually  bad  and 
suggested  the  actor  in  W.  S.  Gilbert's  ballad  "who 
mouthed  and  mugged  in  simulated  rage." 

After  the  engagement  with  Booth  I  played  with 
Adelaide  Neilson  in  Twelfth  Night  and  Cymbeline. 
In  the  latter  play  I  was  Cloten^  which  is  supposed  to 
be  the  comedy  part:  it  wasn't — as  I  played  it.  After 
my  head  is  supposed  to  be  cut  off  Imogen  discovers 
my  body  and  thinking  that  it  is  her  husband,  Posthu- 
mous^ throws  herself  upon  me.  It  was  rather  uncom- 
fortable, as  my  head  was  covered  with  some  dusty 
grass  mats.  My  discomfiture  was  added  to  on  the  first 
night  by  the  fact  that  I  could  tell  that  Miss  Neilson 
was  laughing. 

"What  was  the  matter*?"  I  asked  her  immediately 
afterwards. 

She  merely  continued  to  laugh. 

"Did  my  head  show,  or  was  something  wrong  with 
my  costume*?" 

"Oh,  no,  everything  was  all  right,"  she  told  me; 
"but  I  once  played  that  scene  with  a  very  portly  Cloten^ 
and  when  I  threw  myself  upon  him  I  rebounded  and 


6o  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

bounced.  I  have  never  been  able  to  play  that  scene, 
serious  though  it  is,  without  laughing  under  my 
breath." 

Things  had  been  going  very  badly  with  Daly  for 
some  time,  and  he  lost  the  Fifth  Avenue  Theatre.  I 
played  with  my  mother's  old  friend,  Joseph  Jefferson, 
in  Rip  Van  Winkle  for  a  while  at  Booth's  Theatre, 
which  was  at  Sixth  Avenue  and  Twenty-third  Street. 
At  first  I  was  the  innkeeper,  Seth^  who  chalks  up  drinks 
for  Rip  at  the  beginning  of  the  play  and  later  I  was 
Henrick  Vedder^  the  sailor,  who  comes  in  on  the  fourth 
act,  when  Rip  has  reappeared  after  his  sleep.  This 
part  is  played  by  a  child  in  the  first  act. 

The  next  summer,  with  my  old  friend  of  Philadel- 
phia days,  Lewis  Baker,  I  went  abroad.  That  was  the 
year  of  the  exposition  at  Paris,  and  all  the  boats  were 
crowded.  We  were  very  much  on  the  cheap  and  sailed 
on  an  inferior  boat  of  a  Scotch  line. 

In  London  we  saw  Herman  Vezin  play  a  drama- 
tization of  "The  Vicar  of  Wakefield"  called  Olivia. 
Vezin  was  an  American,  born  in  Philadelphia,  but 
he  was  always  identified  with  the  English  stage  and 
never  played  here.  This  same  play,  Olivia^  by  W.  G. 
Wills,  was  later  played  by  Henry  Irving,  who  was  then 
playing  his  wonderful  melodramatic  success,  The 
Bells. 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  61 

In  Paris  we  saw  Sarah  Bernhardt  play  UEtrangere^ 
at  the  Comedie  Frangaise  with  Coquelin,  Mounet-SuUy 
and  the  other  fine  actors  of  that  great  theatre.  This 
play  was  later  done  in  New  York  by  Daly  under  the 
title  of  The  American. 

On  our  return  to  England  we  saw  the  Columbia  four- 
oar  crew  win  the  Stewards'  Cup  at  Henley.  The  only 
friend  we  met  on  this  trip  was  J.  S.  Clarke,  who  then 
had  the  lease  of  the  Haymarket  Theatre.  He  had 
been  associated  with  my  father  in  Philadelphia.  He 
made  quite  a  success  as  a  comedian  in  London,  but 
he  was  not  acting  when  Baker  and  I  met  him. 

When  we  got  home  I  went  directly  to  Philadelphia, 
where  I  played  Charles  Surface  for  the  first  time,  in 
the  screen  scene  in  The  School  for  Scandal,  at  the 
Arch  Street  Theatre.  The  occasion  was  a  benefit  for  a 
local  charity.  In  order  to  play  Charles,  I  shaved  off 
my  mustache,  and  this  has  been  considered  on  the  part 
of  some  actors  a  great  sacrifice.  It  was  especially  so 
regarded  in  the  seventies.  Edwin  Forrest,  as  his  pic- 
tures will  show,  never  would  remove  his  side  whiskers 
no  matter  what  the  period  or  the  character. 


CHAPTER   SEVEN 

1NEXT  went  on  tour  with  my  brother-in-law,  Mau- 
rice Barrymore.  He  and  Frederick  Warde  had 
purchased  the  road  rights  to  the  great  Wallack's  Thea- 
tre success,  Diplomacy.  I  was  engaged  to  play  the 
juvenile  part,  Algie  Fairfax.  As  the  venture  was  not 
proving  profitable,  Warde  and  Barrymore,  a  short 
time  after  we  had  gone  on  tour,  decided  to  split. 
Warde  was  to  take  part  of  the  company  and  go  West. 
Barrymore  was  to  keep  some  of  the  actors,  engage  a 
few  additional  ones,  and  play  the  Southern  territory. 
I  stayed  with  Barrymore  and  from  then  on  played 
the  part  of  Henry  Beauclerc^  which  had,  up  to  this 
time,  been  played  by  Warde.  Maurice  Barrymore 
played  Julian  Beauclerc^  the  younger  brother.  H. 
Rees  Davies,  an  actor  of  considerable  experience,  was 
Baron  Stein  and  Ben  Porter  played  Count  Orlof. 
Porter  was  a  good-looking  man  in  the  early  forties, 
who  had  played  in  the  Furbish  Company  which  did 
for  a  time  the  old  Daly  play,  Divorce.    Countess  Zicka 

was  played  by  Ellen  Cummings,  an  attractive  young 

62 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  63 

woman  who  had  been  in  the  Louisville  Stock  Com- 
pany. In  this  same  company  Ada  Rehan  had  played 
for  a  time  after  the  days  at  the  Arch  Street  Theatre  and 
before  her  engagement  by  Augustin  Daly. 

It  was  on  this  tour — at  Marshall,  Texas — that  Ben 
Porter  was  killed  and  Barrymore  severely  wounded. 
We  had  played  at  the  Opera  House  that  night  in 
March,  the  sixth  anniversary  of  my  appearance  on  the 
stage,  and  were  waiting  for  a  train  to  take  us  to  Tex- 
arkana. 

We  were  stopping  at  the  Station  Hotel,  and  most 
of  us  went  directly  there  after  the  play;  but  Barry- 
more,  Porter  and  Miss  Cummings  decided  to  have 
something  to  eat,  and  they  went  to  the  only  lunch  room 
that  was  open,  the  one  at  the  station. 

This  lunch  room  was  a  sort  of  bar  as  well.  One  man 
was  waiting  on  both  parts  of  the  room.  A  man  named 
Jim  Curry,  an  employee  of  the  railroad  and  a  deputy 
sheriff,  began  using  offensive  language  and  affronted 
Miss  Cummings. 

Barrymore  demanded  that  he  stop. 

*T  can  do  any  of  you  up,"  said  Curry. 

"I  suppose  you  could,"  answered  Barrymore,  "with 
your  pistol  or  knife." 

T  haven't  got  any  pistol  or  knife.    I'll  do  it  with 


<n 


64  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

my  bunch  of  fives,"  said  Curry,  as  he  proudly  displayed 
a  fist  like  a  sledge  hammer. 

"Then,"  said  Barrymore,  throwing  off  his  coat, 
"I'll  have  a  go  at  you." 

But  Curry  did  have  a  gun  and  he  shot  Barrymore, 
wounding  him  in  the  shoulder.  When  Porter  rushed 
to  Barrymore's  aid,  Curry  shot  him.  Porter  died  al- 
most immediately,  on  the  station  platform. 

I  heard  the  shooting  at  the  hotel,  and  I  ran  along 
the  station  platform  and  entered  the  only  place  that 
was  lighted,  the  lunch  room.  As  I  entered,  the  man 
with  the  gun  grabbed  me.  Why  he  did  not  shoot  I 
do  not  know.  In  another  minute  or  two  the  sheriff  of 
Marshall  arrived,  took  the  gun  away  from  his  deputy 
and  locked  him  up. 

We  stayed  on  in  Marshall  for  some  days,  till  Barry- 
more was  out  of  danger.  When  the  physician  showed 
him  the  ball  that  had  been  cut  out  of  the  muscle  of  his 
back,  Barrymore  said:  "I'll  give  it  to  my  son  Lionel 
to  cut  his  teeth  on." 

Our  hotel  at  the  station  was  some  distance  from 
the  town  itself,  and  the  next  night  when  I  was  going  to 
the  druggist's  to  get  a  prescription  filled  for  Barry- 
more, the  train  dispatcher  called  me  aside  and  said: 
"You'd  better  take  my  pistol." 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  6j 

I  did  so  and  walked  along  the  dark  road  to  the 
town  with  some  little  apprehension.  The  shooting  at 
the  lunch  room  had  made  us  rather  conspicuous  in 
Marshall. 

There  was  only  one  house  lighted  along  the  road 
and  when  I  was  just  opposite  that  a  woman  called  to 
me:    "Where  are  you  going^" 

I  told  her:  "To  the  druggist's,  and  then  back  to 
the  hotel." 

She  said:  "When  you  go  back  to  the  station  will 
you  tell  my  husband,  he's  train  dispatcher" — the  very 
man  who  had  given  me  the  gun — "that  there  are  some 
tramps  hanging  around  here.  They've  been  in  here 
to  demand  food." 

I  went  on  to  the  druggist's,  obtained  the  medicine 
and  started  back  on  the  long,  dark  road,  now  without 
a  single  light.  The  pistol  gave  me  confidence  of  a 
sort,  but  of  course  I  didn't  want  to  use  it;  I  never  had 
used  one. 

With  my  hand  on  the  gun,  which  was  in  my  side 
pocket,  I  looked  anxiously  at  the  one  or  two  persons 
I  met  on  the  way.  When  I  returned  the  pistol  to  its 
owner  I  told  him  of  his  wife's  fears,  and  he  and  another 
man  went  up  to  his  house  and  apprehended  two  men 
who  were  put  in  jail.    And  though  I  had  been  anxious 


66  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

along  the  road,  happily  there  were  no  other  casualties 
during  our  visit  to  Marshall. 

The  people  of  Texas,  to  show  their  detestation  of 
the  whole  affair  and  their  sympathy  with  the  company, 
offered  us  the  hospitality  of  a  number  of  towns  that 
no  touring  company  would  have  thought  of  visiting. 
I  do  not  suppose  these  towns  would  have  been  espe- 
cially attractive  or  profitable  for  a  "one-man  show"  at 
that  time.  Mesquite  was  one  of  these,  and  Eagle  Ford 
another.  We  were  promised  good  houses;  but  of 
course  we  could  not  play  Diplomacy  with  two  of  our 
leading  characters  missing. 

We  played  two  or  three  farces,  which  we  studied  for 
the  occasion.  One  of  these  was  an  old  piece  called 
The  Little  Treasure.  In  this  the  property  man  played 
a  young  English  fop.  He  wore  clothes  of  Barrymore's 
that  didn't  fit  him,  and  a  light-yellow  wig  that  slipped 
badly  and  either  showed  his  dark  hair  at  the  temple  or 
at  the  neck  in  back.  This  was  a  sort  of  "town  hall 
tonight"  tour.  When  there  was  no  theatre,  we  played 
in  a  hall  and  once  in  the  dining  room  of  a  hotel. 

Curry  was  twice  brought  to  trial,  but  acquitted. 
There  were  witnesses  in  court  to  testify  that  Curry  had 
shot  Porter  and  Barrymore  in  self-defense.  As  a  mat- 
ter of  fact,  at  the  time  of  the  shooting  there  was  no 
one  in  the  lunch  room  except  the  participants  and  the 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  67 

man  who  was  waiting  upon  them.  He  was  spirited 
away  and  never  appeared  in  court. 

The  night  of  the  second  acquittal  Barrymore,  who 
had  twice  gone  to  Texas  at  great  expense  and  incon- 
venience, was  sitting  in  front  of  the  hotel — this  time 
the  hotel  in  town — airing  his  views  upon  Texas  jus- 
tice. In  no  mincing  words  he  was  telling  a  citizen  of 
the  place  what  he  thought. 

Just  then  a  man  walked  past  them  into  the  hotel. 

"Do  you  know  who  that  was*?"  asked  Barrymore's 
companion. 

"No." 

"That  was  the  lawyer  who  defended  Curry." 

Barrymore  leaned  back  and  heard  the  lawyer  ask 
the  hotel  clerk  in  a  voice  that  sounded  truculent  to 
him:    "Is  Mr.  Maurice  Barrymore  here*?" 

"He's  right  outside,"  said  the  clerk. 

The  lawyer  came  out  and  stood  in  the  light  from 
the  door  and  asked:    "Is  Maurice  Barrymore  here'?" 

Barrymore  who  noticed  that  the  lawyer  had  his  hand 
on  his  hip  pocket  declared  himself  present  a  little  re- 
luctantly. He  thought  that  there  might  be  another 
shooting  imminent. 

"Here,"  said  the  lawyer,  taking  his  gun  from  his 
pocket  and  holding  the  butt  out  to  Barrymore,  "is  the 
pistol  that  killed  Porter  and  wounded  you." 


68  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

Barrymore  took  it,  thanked  the  lawyer,  examined 
the  gun  gingerly  and  handed  it  back. 

We  heard  later  that  Curry  was  killed  in  a  brawl  in 
New  Mexico. 

By  easy  stages  the  company,  which  had  gone  through 
so  much  in  Texas,  worked  its  way  to  Texarkana,  Pine 
Bluff,  and  by  way  of  Little  Rock  to  St.  Louis.  In  Chi- 
cago the  Western  company,  which  was  headed  by 
Warde,  joined  us,  and  we  managed  to  give,  once  more, 
some  fairly  respectable  performances  of  Diplomacy. 
But  the  play  was  not  a  great  success  then,  and  when 
we  closed  there  was  so  little  money  that  I  set  out  for 
Philadelphia  in  a  smoking  car.  It  meant  two  uncom- 
fortable days  and  nights.  When  we  reached  Altoona 
a  telegraph  boy  called  my  name  in  the  smoking  car. 
He  had  a  telegram  for  me.  It  was  from  Mother.  She 
cautioned  me  to  be  sure  to  stop  off  at  Philadelphia,  for 
she  had  a  part  for  me  to  play  the  next  night.  I  had 
no  intention  of  going  any  place  other  than  Philadel- 
phia.   I  had  no  money. 

I  arrived  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  and  went 
directly  to  our  house  where  my  mother  gave  me  the 
part  I  was  to  play  that  night.  This  was  Mr.  Bronzley 
in  an  old  comedy.  Wives  as  They  Were  and  Maids  as 
They  Are.  I  sat  up  all  night  and  studied.  At  ten 
o'clock  the  next  morning  I  attended  rehearsal.     At 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  69 

eight  I  appeared  in  eighteenth  century  finery  as  Mr. 
Bronzley  and  though  I  should  not  call  my  perform- 
ance either  spirited  or  good,  I  did  know  the  lines. 

I  suppose  it  was  youth,  but  in  those  days  we  all  had 
a  capacity  for  memorizing.  That  is,  all  of  us  except 
Barrymore.  My  sister,  Georgie,  could  study  a  part 
in  no  time  at  all,  and  she  couldn't  understand  why 
Barrymore  could  not  commit  things  to  memory  easily. 
She  used  to  hear  him  say  his  parts  over  and  over 
again.  While  he  had  a  marvelous  memory  for  things 
he  had  read,  poetry  or  prose,  or  anything  he  had  studied 
while  he  was  at  Oxford,  he  couldn't  commit  his  parts 
easily. 

This  was  the  end  of  my  first  and  only  experience  in 
a  barnstorming  company,  for  I  was  so  fortunate  as  to 
come  into  the  theatre  in  the  days  of  resident  companies 
and  to  play  most  of  my  career  under  two  managements 
— that  of  Augustin  Daly  and  that  of  Charles  Frohman. 

When  I  had  rested  from  this  long  trip  in  a  smoking 
car  and  the  difficulties  and  fatigues  of  this  added  stunt 
of  playing  a  performance  with  less  than  twenty-four 
hours'  notice,  I  went  to  New  York  to  lay  siege  to  the 
office  of  Augustin  Daly,  who  was,  I  heard,  about  to 
open  a  new  theatre. 


CHAPTER   EIGHT 

WHILE  I  was  in  Texas,  Daly  had  been  abroad, 
where  he  bought  the  rights  to  the  play  made 
from  Zola's  famous  book,  "L'Assommoir."  Under  the 
title  of  Drink,  in  a  version  written  by  Charles  Reade, 
this  play  was  done  by  Charles  Warner  for  five  thou- 
sand nights  in  England.  In  New  York,  when  pro- 
duced by  Daly  at  the  Olympic  Theatre,  it  was  a  com- 
plete failure  and  ran  only  a  short  time.  In  the  cast 
were  Maude  Granger,  Emily  Rigl,  B.  T.  Ringold, 
Frank  Sanger;  my  uncle,  Frank  Drew ;  and  Ada  Rehan. 
Gardner,  the  manager  of  the  Arch  Street  Theatre,  had 
recommended  Ada  Rehan  to  Daly,  and  in  this  play 
she  played  for  the  first  time  under  his  management. 
Olive  Logan,  who  wrote  the  play  Surf,  which  had  a 
record  run  at  the  Arch  Street  Theatre  and  had  also 
been  produced  by  Daly,  made  the  version  American 
in  all  respects,  but  not  sufficiently  different  to  account 
for  the  failure  here  and  the  great  success  when  played 
by  Warner. 

This  failure  did  not  discourage  Daly  or  his  chief 

backer,  John  DuflF,  his  father-in-law,  and  they  set  out 

70 


From  Theatre  CoUrction,  Harvard   University. 

ADA   REHAN    AND   JOHN    DREW    IN    "DOLLARS   AND   SENSe' 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  71 

to  find  a  new  theatre  early  in  1879.  ^^  ^^^  West  side 
of  Broadway  between  Twenty-ninth  and  Thirtieth 
streets  was  an  old  building  which  had  been  Banvard's 
and  later  Wood's  Museum.  Downstairs  was  an  exhi- 
bition hall  which  was  chiefly  famous  as  the  place  where 
the  Cardiff  giant  was  displayed. 

The  auditorium  was  up  a  flight  of  steps  and  very 
small.  Daly's  architect  contrived  by  a  series  of  steps 
some  feet  apart  to  give  the  impression  when  the  place 
was  made  over  that  the  theatre  was  on  the  ground 
floor.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  stage  had  been  lowered 
somewhat  and  a  new  proscenium  arch  made.  Because 
the  building  was  old  and  so  far  out  of  the  theatrical 
district  the  rental  was  low.  There  was  great  pessi- 
mism over  the  location  of  the  theatre,  so  far  uptown. 

When  he  had  finished  the  physical  changes  in  the 
theatre  and  had  redecorated  the  whole,  Daly  gathered 
together  a  company.  As  in  the  opening  of  the  Fifth 
Avenue  Theatre,  he  selected  mostly  young  players. 
After  some  correspondence  and  a  visit  or  two  I  was 
engaged.  I  asked  for  forty  dollars  a  week,  but  Daly 
would  only  give  me  thirty-five. 

In  a  letter  I  had  written  him  I  mentioned  that  since 
the  Fifth  Avenue  Theatre  days  I  had  had  quite  a  little 
experience  and  had  improved  in  my  enunciation.  He 
wrote  me  that  he  was  glad  to  hear  that  I  had  improved 


72  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

but  that  I  should  not  make  him  "pay  for  all  the  im- 
provements." A  year  later  when  I  was  married,  he 
voluntarily  raised  my  salary  to  fifty  dollars. 

Ada  Rehan  had  written  Daly  that  she  had  a  number 
of  offers,  but  as  they  would  take  her  out  of  town  she 
would  be  willing  to  accept  an  engagement  with  him  if 
he  would  pay  her  forty  dollars  a  week.  She  did  not 
feel  that  she  could  accept  anything  less  than  this  sum, 
but  she  finally  agreed  to  take  thirty-five. 

Salaries  were  low  everywhere  in  those  days,  and  the 
only  advantage  the  actor  had  was  that  he  was  engaged 
by  the  season  and  not  for  one  part  only.  We  were 
seldom  idle,  for  if  there  was  a  musical  piece  running, 
those  of  us  who  did  not  appear  in  it  went  on  tour. 

The  stage  entrance  of  Daly's  was  through  the  hall- 
way of  a  tenement  house  in  Sixth  Avenue  and  into  a 
little  courtyard  out  of  which  the  actual  stage  door 
opened.  Later,  Daly  bought  a  house  in  Twenty-ninth 
Street  and  the  entrance  was  through  this.  Also  many 
of  the  dressing  rooms  were  moved  over,  and  the  whole 
arrangement  was  made  more  comfortable. 

In  the  early  days  we  dressed  in  small  rooms  under 
the  stage  which  had  partitions  only  part  of  the  way 
up.  There  was  a  green  room,  of  course,  for  then  every 
theatre  had  one.    This  was  not  a  handsome  room,  like 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  73 

the  one  in  the  Fifth  Avenue  Theatre  under  Daly's 
management.  There  being  no  space  at  all  in  the  new 
Daly  theatre  except  under  the  stage,  the  green  room 
was  small  and  uncomfortable,  as  were  the  dressing 
rooms. 

One  end  of  the  room  had  a  large  mirror.  The  other 
walls  were  covered  with  framed  quotations  from  Bul- 
wer-Lytton,  Doctor  Johnson  and  Shakespeare.  There 
were  one  or  two  slogans — and  this  was  before  the  days 
of  printed  slogans  and  office  mottoes — promising  hap- 
piness and  careers  to  "those  who  minded  their  own 
business." 

In  that  very  charming  book,  "The  Diary  of  a  Daly 
Debutante,"  written  by  a  woman  who  for  a  short  time 
played  very  minor  parts  with  the  Daly  Company,  there 
is  this  description  of  the  green  room : 

This  place  is  not  very  attractive ;  it  is  long  and 
narrow,  with  a  full-length  mirror  at  one  end  of 
the  room ;  next  to  the  mirror  is  a  door  leading  into 
Mr.  Daly's  private  office.  There  is  a  green  velvet 
carpet  on  the  floor,  and  around  the  walls  runs  a 
leather-covered  bench.  A  few  chairs  stand  here 
and  there,  and  a  fine  Weber  piano  occupies  one 
corner.  Several  good  pictures  and  some  curious 
old  English  play-bills  hang  on  the  walls.  There 
is  only  one  window,  so  the  room  is  dark  and 
gloomy  by  daylight,  except  just  by  the  window. 


74  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

though  at  night  it  is  light  enough.  A  door  opens 
into  one  end  of  the  property-room — a  place  where 
all  sorts  of  things  are  kept  that  are  used  on  the 
stage — and  through  that  we  pass  out  to  the  stage. 

At  the  time  of  the  opening  Daly's  theatre  was,  of 
course,  lighted  by  gas.  The  flames  were  protected  by 
wire  netting  and  the  jets  were  lighted  by  spark.  Later, 
when  electric  lighting  was  first  installed,  there  was  no 
plant  in  the  theatre,  the  supply  coming  from  the  city 
power  house. 

Often  the  lights  would  go  out,  and  the  explanation 
was  always  that  they  were  changing  a  belt. 

It  was  not  very  reassuring  for  the  audiences  to  sit  in 
darkness;  nor  was  it  comfortable  for  the  players,  who 
had  come  to  a  complete  standstill  on  the  stage  and 
were  waiting  for  the  lights  to  come  on. 

From  the  beginning  Daly  was  insistent  that  no  one 
should  be  allowed  back  stage  on  first  nights.  As  a  mat- 
ter of  fact,  it  was  impossible  to  get  to  the  stage  or 
dressing  rooms  at  any  time,  so  zealously  was  the  door 
to  the  stage  guarded  by  a  large,  unlettered,  rough,  but 
kindly  Hibernian,  named  Owen  Gormley. 

He  seemed  very  surly;  but  of  course  he  was  only 
doing  what  Daly  wanted  him  to  do,  and  he  did  keep 
people  out  of  the  theatre.  Owen  could  not  read,  and 
he  regarded  everyone  who  presented  a  letter  or  card 


From  Theatre  Collection,  Harvard   Unireraity. 


JOHN   DREW   AND   WILLIAM   GILBERT  IN       RED   LETTER   NIGHTS 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  75 

with  a  good  deal  of  suspicion.    It  was  hopeless  to  try 
to  get  mail  from  him. 

Owen  had  the  distinction  of  having  kept  Mark 
Twain  out  of  the  theatre  when  he  came  by  special  ap-. 
pointment  to  see  Daly.  After  the  one-hundredth  per- 
formance of  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew,  Daly  gave  a 
supper  at  a  large  round  table  on  the  stage  of  the  thea- 
tre. Twain  was  introduced  by  General  Sherman,  and 
we  then  heard,  for  the  first  time,  how  Owen  had  kept 
him  from  his  appointment. 

Twain  began  by  saying:  "This  is  the  hardest  thea- 
tre in  New  York  to  get  into,  even  at  the  front  door." 
He  then  went  on  and  described  in  an  excruciatingly 
funny  way  his  encounter  with  Owen  after  he  had  found 
his  way  through  the  long  hallway  into  the  backyard 
which  led  to  the  stage. 

The  first  night  of  Daly's  theatre  was  really  not  an 
auspicious  occasion.  Daly  had  failed  so  completely 
with  the  Fifth  Avenue  Theatre,  and  his  attempt  to 
come  back  with  UAssommoir  had  been  so  unfortunate 
that  perhaps  at  no  time  in  his  career  of  management 
did  his  name  mean  so  little  to  the  public  as  when  he 
opened  his  own  theatre  on  September  18,  i879« 

Nor  was  the  opening  bill  a  success.  There  was  a 
one-act  play  called  Love's  Young  Dream,  in  which  Ada 
Rehan,   May   Fielding,   Charles   Fisher  and   George 


76  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

Parkes  appeared.  This  was  followed  by  'Newport^ 
subtitled  The  Swimmer^  The  Singer  and  The  Cipher. 
According  to  the  program  I  was  Tom  Sanderson^  a 
master  bather  with  an  overmastering  secret.  The  cast 
was: 

Hon.  Peter  Porter  Charles  Leclercq 

Hon.  U.  B.  Blode  William  Davidge 

Ben  Boulgate  Hart  Conway 

Capt.  Chickering  George  Parkes 

Tom  Sanderson  John  Drew 

Captain  Blackwell  Frank  Iredale 

Crutch  Reynolds  Walter  Edmunds 

Undo  Frank  V.  Bennett 

ToGGs  Maggie  Barnes 

Midget  Laura  Thorpe 

Thompson  Earle  Stirling 

Ginger  E.  Wilkes 

Officer  P.  Hunting 
Hon.  Mrs.  Peter  Porter  Catherine  Lewis 

The  Widow  Warboys  Mrs.  Charles  Poole 

Miss  Belle  Blode  Georgine  Flagg 

Cosette  Annie  Wakeman 

In  this  comedy  with  songs  Olive  Logan  had  at- 
tempted to  repeat  the  success  which  she  had  attained 
with  her  earlier  play  about  a  fashionable  summer  re- 
sort, Surf.  She  failed  to  get  from  Newport  what  she 
had  found  in  the  background  of  Cape  May  and  the 
public  stayed  away  from  the  new  theatre. 

Divorce^  a  success  of  a  few  years  before,  was  revived 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  77 

as  soon  as  possible  and  rehearsals  begun  on  a  new 
play  by  Bronson.Howard  called  Wives.  This  was  an 
adaptation  from  Moliere's  two  plays,  UEcole  des 
Femmes  and  UEcole  des  Maris  and  so  far  as  I  can 
ascertain  this  is  the  first  time  that  Moliere,  so  often 
adapted  and  borrowed  from,  was  given  credit  on  an 
American  playbill. 

The  cast  for  this  five-act  comedy  produced  October 
18,  1879,  was: 


Arnolphe,  Marquis  of 
Fontenoy 

SCANARELLE   LaMARRE 
ViCOMTE  ArISTE 

Chrisalde 

Horace  de  Chateauroux 

Captain  Fieremonte 

DORIVAL 

Alain 

Jean  Jacques 

Captain  Ballander 

The  Commissary 

The  Notary 

Agnes 

ISABELLE  de  NeSLE 

Lenora  de  Nesle 

LiSETTE 

Georgette 


Charles  Fisher 
William  Davidge 
George  Morton 
John  Drew 
Harry  Lacy 
George  Parkes 
Hart  Conway 
Charles  Leclercq 
F.  Bennett 
W.  Edmunds 
Mr.  Hunting 
Mr.  Sterling 
Catherine  Lewis 
Ada  Rehan 
Margaret  Lanner 
Maggie  Harold 
Sydney  Nelson 


During  this  first  season  neither  James  Lewis  nor 
Mrs.  Gilbert  was  in  the  company,  and  it  was  not  till 


78  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

the  following  September  that  we  were  all  cast  together 
in  a  play  called  Our  First  Families^  by  Edgar  Fawcett. 

The  playbills  at  Daly's  theatre  always  had  a  synop- 
sis with  the  character.  Thus,  in  An  Arabian  Night,  I 
was  Mr.  Alexander  S pinkie,  "a  retired  broker  and 
ex-Caliph;  a  devoted  young  husband  with  a  fatal  pas- 
sion for  the  Arabian  Nights."  And  Ada  Rehan  was 
Miss  Kate  S pinkie,  "an  American  girl  brought  up 
abroad,  and  astonished  at  the  ways  at  home."  In  The 
Way  We  Live  I  was  Clyde  Monograme  "who  lives  the 
best  way  he  can  since  his  wife  lives  for  everybody  else." 
And  Ada  Rehan  was  Cherry  Monograme,  "who  lives 
in  her  carriage  and  makes  short  calls  at  home." 

Both  of  these  were  plays  which  Daly  had  adapted 
from  the  German.  In  the  first  I  had  the  so.t  of  light 
comedy  part  that  I  played  so  often  in  the  Daly  Theatre 
and  in  the  second  Ada  Rehan  and  I  played  opposite 
each  other  as  we  were  to  do  for  so  many  years  after- 
ward. 

At  the  end  of  the  season  we  opened  a  spring  tour  in 
Boston  with  An  Arabian  Night.  This  rather  light 
comedy  did  not  fill  the  vast  spaces  of  the  Boston 
Theatre.  On  the  first  night  a  pony  that  was  brought 
on  in  one  of  the  scenes  stepped  on  my  foot  and  cracked 
my  patent-leather  shoe.  Otherwise  this  visit  to  Boston 
was  quite  uneventful,  except  that  it  gave  me  an  oppor- 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  79 

tunity  to  call  upon  that  fine  actor,  William  Warren. 
He  was  an  old  friend  of  my  mother's  and  had  been  as- 
sociated at  one  time  or  another  with  other  members  of 
the  family. 

I  never  had  the  good  fortune  to  act  with  him.  At 
the  time  I  visited  him  he  was  the  idol  of  the  Boston 
Museum,  where  he  played  for  many  years. 

I  called  upon  him  at  Miss  Amelia  Fisher's  boarding 
house  in  Bullfinch  Place,  where  he  was  a  perpetual 
guest  and  liked  by  everyone.  To  call  Miss  Fisher's 
house  a  theatrical  boarding  house  is  not  a  fair  descrip- 
tion, for  it  was  really  a  delightful  place  and  nothing  at 
all  like  the  boarding  house  which  Helen  Green  has 
celebrated  under  the  name  of  "Maison  de  Shine." 

I  talked  to  William  Warren  of  our  play.  He 
sympathized  with  our  company  for  having  to  play  so 
frothy  a  piece  in  so  huge  a  theatre.  "It  is  like,"  he 
said,  "trying  to  tell  a  funny  story  across  the  Common." 

A  great  many  members  of  the  profession  did  not 
care  to  stay  at  Miss  Fisher's  because  she  never  gave  her 
guests  a  latch  key,  but  would  sit  up  and  wait  for  them 
to  come  home.  She  always  let  her  guests  in  herself. 
I  can  remember  when  Charlie  Stevenson  went  to  Bos- 
ton. He  thought  that  it  would  be  fine  to  stay  there 
where  so  many  of  the  profession  had  been.  It  had 
always  seemed  so  pleasant  when  he  had  visited  friends 


8o  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

who  were  living  in  Miss  Fisher's  house.  But  he  felt  the 
restraint  when  he  lived  there  himself.  He  did  not 
want  to  keep  the  old  lady  sitting  up  for  him  after  the 
theatre,  and  he  did  not  want  to  come  home  on  cue. 


CHAPTER  NINE 

THE  second  season  of  Daly's  opened  with  Tiote^ 
a  romantic  melodrama  with  the  scene  laid  in 
Wales.  It  was  a  prompt  failure.  Then  came  Our 
First  Families,  which  brought  together  the  four  play- 
ers who  were  to  be  associated  through  the  eighties  and 
early  nineties. 

Mrs.  Gilbert  was  an  old  dear.  Even  in  the  days  of 
the  Fifth  Avenue  Company  we  called  her  "Grandma." 
Ada  Rehan  was  handsome  and  attractive.  She  was 
big,  whole-hearted,  good-natured  and  one  of  the  most 
lovable  of  women.  She  had  fine,  expressive  eyes, 
which  counted  much  in  the  theatre. 

Jim  Lewis  was  the  most  companionable  of  men,  and 

I  never  had  a  better  friend.    There  is  no  use  discussing 

his  great  talent  and  his  great  ability.    That  does  not 

mean  much  now,  but  there  is  a  story  concerning  him 

which  means  much  to  me.     The  summer  before   I 

played  Rosemary  we  were  all  living  together  at  West 

Hampton,  Long  Island — the  Lewises,  Henry  Miller 

and  his  family,  my  mother,  the  Barrymore  children  and 

my  wife,  daughter  and  myself.    Lewis  saw  a  Sunday 

8i 


^fC?S3S3^ 


k 


'^s3^'^ 


i-  l^-?MWS.THEJCrREf 


m  oiTLT  nuni  nsa  isi  sou  uiimon  ar 

MP.    AUGUSTIN     DALY. 


SECOND  YEAR  OF  THE  HEW  THEATRE. 


Twelfth  l^eek. 


ICle^hty-slxtlk  PerA>rinonco. 


Tbe  Molo  on  the  Ad  Drop  :  **  Fmlwtam  fu*  mrntit/mt ;" — Wl  bim  bear  Ute  p*\m  who  bu  wna  tt. 


*■  UM  Nan 


!'»?.  JAMES  LfWIS 

wd  brfa  h»  kM  kMa  sumaf  a  poetic 
.MR.  CH4 


THIS  TUESDAY  EVENING.  NOVEMBER  9,   1880, 

WJ]  tM  MUd  flM  ibe  &nt  tine    u    My    Su4t)    A    HOLIDAY    COMEDY  U*    f^-tt  Acu.  by  MR    AUCUSTIM 
^^  '         OALY-4iL>r<J  OB  *  pUy  by  ik«  Mubot  of  "DIE  CITRONEN.  '  .»uii«i~ 

NEEDLES  AND  FINS! 

Fm  «k><k    MR      lAUfS    RODCBTS  k«f   f^imud   c*«rT  kvm  m«    MR.  tDWA*  D    MOLLKNHAUCR  hii 
cc^poMd  lOBC  oM^M  niaCAl   Mnbcn.     MR.    JAHES  TAlT  ttM  amncrd   tk« 
•Ml  U    J.   EAVES  k»c  oMiM'tcd  otiftQAl  *ma  charjcicrlMlc  cotiuaca 

T«B   CAST    WILL   IBCLVDK 

MR    HICHOLAS  CEACLK  (•••Uirtr  »«fT  ta  K^-tk  i^  *k«   Mttqaa  ■»<  cu>I«m 
*<n»»*  b>t  of  Hum'*  eiv«  brtc-«-hrac,  a*!   Uuw»  ihm  bM   Manias  af  ■• 

It^dla      

MB    CHRISTOPHER  VANDUSEH.(»  tttini  M.tchui 

•:;?r:.':;rl:i=r.^"""'~^'''"~"- — r.T-r-:v.T,R:-cH»ELts  risHUL 

KIT  YANbUstN  (iVSTw  ».  .1  .k.  brf  r,  .««««  Ck*»»k».  .«  U.  •••  liiiU  ucm  ,,.,„, 

fcmioct  .1-1  >OttfT«ipo»*lB«  art»wuun>«i  .    . ...    .    .    .    .    .  .  HK.  JUMM   BHAfiU 

T<iM  VbttSUS  I A  iKiT  V'^vBK    AtioT^cT   *t>6.   ao*    ujrf)   t  »«•«  M  IM  tUat  hratkrcs  M  OM  bar  

TUM  »^»^^  i^,'li  h7..1Wdl~.  ;uj.  k«  ln>W<  >!•  o..  aaO m4.  JOHM  DR»W 

SEaCFANr  UALBONALD.  rfiti  »<*   P~«ct.  i»rouJr  •"*€<  fa><i«r  u>h>1m«>  ..„1>T» 

M   'flirt  mJ*  ■'    -* .••    ......•...•••••••-■■K'   KUBLK  la 

BUX,.tk.<po>ur ■"-  LAURENtA 

-ALSO- 
MR5    VAKDUSEH(iK«»M««  p«nft«  o*ifc«  «iired  Cork   M*»«l*»«-M'  •' ♦^t*  ••  !•  ».«  owo 

.Dh«t«--»d  io  tti  a«  mW.  {..pwof  Nc*dl«*  and  Pi^  U  (>«i  »«•  frn^t,) .       .    .  MU>S  FANNY  MOVANT 
M»S  I>6SIE  HErFRON.(.   jld*,   t«u-«  .ht.«   of  —  (d«.   .O-.^k)   -fco  r-^w*  «»  *- "  rii  BtBT 

SlUEJiA  VANDUsEN  (h«iMW,»ibc«iofc«*«M-»  Md«.  Uwu«h«ro»cbodlB«»«jbody  d«*»  __„.„ 

,[_},,) MIm  AUA  JftHAW 

MISS  MAR  V   FOREST  (hr.««l.pp«.«.«ihi.«>M'n.     A  yo««t  l*Or  '^••tl,  «•«  Into  .  fof-  -,_,  ^1,-/5 

tu**     v.ili  LicMr  (caABik  tdcM  u  to  lU  dispokl) UISS  MAY  FIELDUCU 

CAROLlNEfa  M>idt«mMe<  the  ptiiod,  >bd  1  tvl'm*  «w«<o«  l»  Ol  ki«r«  Em)..  .MISS  UACCIE  UARROLD 

HANNAH.  MoUu - •  .MtSS  LXVERK 

CHARACTERS  IN  THE  MAS4JUC  AHI>  NURSEBY  COTILLON. 
HiM  E*ci*o»         ChaiKpatMtr^i'   .   .  Mlit  MmvcU        ToAwydodd  . 
.Uku  Ki'kbo^.        T)w    FoM    Do*>BOM   in   BUcl.   by 
MumMcNcI'.  U.i>    V.u«tL»,     U01     W,|.2«.. 

M(»«  Dou'dkoA.  Mu*  HmaiO.   Mut  F«>i>'cnit7B'. 

.  .Mr   W.XX.        ritfnt Ur.  Si.rtt.  g. 

Mr.  L>«  cac*.        JsotLUVa Mr.    Bcaant. 


I^hd«!ife.   . 

Cjpuu'Jcab  - 

FaKbciie  .   . 

CrrUNc* 

B(d  R'ding  Hord.  . 

Huatpty  l>t.me*r- 

RotuMM  CtlMOa  . 

Mtpbuirphck*  .   . 


(Un^r  vhoit  d>r«ci>on  ihc  daa<e*  k 


TK«  Hoyal  UUdy. 

AlftddiB 

Liiile  Bepcvp  . .  . 

MfttbcT   C<MM«  .     . 

Fmi  ta  B<4^  .   .   . 
Wv.bMrd.   ... 

M 


,  .  .  M>u  Vlsuw 
.   .M>u  Wuicr 

.MiM  Tr(..l*U 
.  M6i  HutcjQ«r 
.   .  MtM  Brooks 

Ml.  MoCdoBoaBh 

.  .  .  Mr.  H««Tu 
.  MM*.  MalTtM 


Tmn  Fibst  Act— Sc^:  Tbc  Hona  of  ih«  Vindutna  I  (By  Rob«n».>— A  Mibuibka  botua  to  oUtk  lfa« 
»«i«d  C»»k-««*«^n«  haj  BowD  for  »  Qoi«  •hicb  *«  do»»  »o«  iad.  T»«r.iy  fi*«  ya»>*  of  iK*  Nndka  aad  nM  vf 
Wcillock  do  MM  d<t«t  two  tn  Otrtt  mart  iMipln  fio«a  f«Muf<Lg.  Tbrrc  Silaaa*  Kaka  iL«U  appcanaca  l«  dluu»  iba 
CAta  .— aad  the  hi*  of  ika  Wb.tpcra  U  aciiJcd. 

Tna  S>ca*a  Act.— 5cwc  :  Tt<  U»  OAca  of  Mr  Toa  V«Tt«  ta  ikt  City  —la  wikli  ih<  rmaaadc  ymMC 
mU1«atMii«aacaoC«*l^«T*'<^^>  *<*<*  *^  ^**<i.  aaJ  (hx^  h«f  (ae«  la  il.  Tb*  ihrac  SJaais  lata  ap  laiiMapcc«a4 
fcrc<  u>  tbr  WMfkMKio  ofacraral  paopl*.    A  L«»aa  ia  Oaoonc 

Tmi  Twiaa  AfT  — 5«cMa  TW<  HlpfndMWit  Suamcr  Cardaa  d«e.  rawd  tor  it«"Triiaa"  Maaquaraida.  (Bv 
Ht  Jamn  Robcrw  >— Ncodla  ^ad  P\a«  auka  ikcaiacUa  fell  (a  mora  botoai  iKa-  <ro«  i  and  a  DoBUoe  RIddU  «hk* 
CMitU.^  ihc  ptayc-^  pUcoofM  of  lb**  at  tha  *«rcy  of  th*  po  kc  Tha  dkauimui  rtsuJta  ri  aa  «a<ba»(«  olrvats  aod 
of  a  'Ip  ^  talced  JiiKkka.  Oac  c»  t^  Stlaaa/  la  wam..4krd  aad  aaotbtr  *J  tkaia  unSMtb*  bctMlf.  tfUla  Jm  Brtft-^ 
Bru  tuiouf  Li  Imtl  of  faU  priaa.     Look  *•  I  I 

(IM-.J.>«^  l»  ihu  Ki  vUlba  a  d«ri  by  Aiaa  EWtdlH  »J  Ui 
tyaB  ib«   CbaTa<.Mn  ) 

TMa  Fo«»rH  Airt  — BtturM  to  tha  Vasdaua  Ha^lea  aakd  dcnlopa  auadnr  baadacba  asd  bcaitachaa.  alMr 
tba  tKu<paiioafMJ  c>Mppoiat«««Oof  iba  p«rTk«a  atcnta(.  A  HoaavmaoD  (o  iba  Lbjlbbalooloe  I  A  a«v  Chlaaaa 
f^tie  ■■  (HI  toftl^,  aad  iba  ioal  b*I<aa  U  ^uluaJ  ai  Im*.  arhtU  tba  Itfala  caiaa  N  aad  wlih  a  aova!  nad(t1»g  of  ab 
old  Rhy»«. 


'.  Brand  a«4  a  CEonu  aad  CoiIUm  ofirnMnr  Khpii* 


:oc»: 


|..«y(%  ulM  UVXA  jOYCK,  U..  UARRT  LACY,  M«  Mr.  C    LXCLEStCQ,  ..d  ilM  <mih  CcMfMy  vI 
^^  rVB°*  **^  **  Dk)f*i  Tleitic  ftrt  ncIotHtfl  frooi  l>«  ocUbfflad  how*  of  Hauus  BkOK 


From  Theatre  Collection,  Harvard  University. 


a  typical  daly  comedy  from  the  german  with    the  bio 

four"  in  the  cast 

82 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  83 

paper  in  which  a  certain  writer  of  theatrical  affairs 
drew  a  rather  personal  comparison  between  my  acting 
and  that  of  Charles  Wyndham,  who  had  played  Rose- 
mary in  London.  It  was  the  conviction  of  the  writer 
of  this  article  that  the  part  of  Sir  Jasper  was  too  serious 
for  me  and  somewhat  beyond  my  depth;  in  fact,  that 
I  should  fail  in  Rosemary.  Lewis  took  the  trouble  to 
cut  this  out  of  all  the  copies  of  the  paper  in  the  house 
so  that  I  would  not  see  the  disparaging  remarks  while 
I  was  studying  the  part  I  was  to  play  the  last  of 
August  at  the  Empire  Theatre,  and  so  that  my  family 
would  not  see  them.  It  was  most  thoughtful  and  so 
characteristic  of  Lewis!  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Rose- 
mary was  a  big  success. 

The  second  season  at  Daly's  had  not  started  out  too 
bravely,  but  when  Needles  and  Pins  was  produced  the 
success  of  this  theatre,  so  far  above  the  theatrical  dis- 
trict, seemed  to  be  assured.  Needles  and  Pins  was  an 
adaptation  of  Rosen's  Starke  Mitteln.  It  had  a  run 
of  a  hundred  nights.  Miss  Rehan  and  I  played  oppo- 
site each  other.  She  was  a  young  girl  in  her  'teens, 
and  I  a  young  lawyer  captivated  by  her  youthful 
charm.  Mrs.  Gilbert  played  one  of  those  elderly 
spinsters  trying  to  grow  young,  and  James  Lewis  was 
an  elderly  bachelor  in  love  with  her. 


84  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

From  this  second  season  of  the  new  Daly's  Ada 
Rehan  was  an  assured  success.  E.  A.  Dithmar  at  a 
somewhat  later  date  wrote:  "Miss  Ada  Rehan  has 
no  lack  of  appreciation  and  she  is  growing  in  her  art. 
Her  record  belongs  to  the  future ;  but  it  has  been  inter- 
esting and  profitable  to  watch  her  artistic  work  from 
the  days  of  Needles  and  Pins,  in  which  Miss  Rehan 
as  a  kittenish  girl  acted  as  a  mediator  in  the  mature 
romance  of  a  bald  and  bashful  bachelor  and  a  gushing 
yet  timid  spinster,  portrayed  by  Mr.  Lewis  and  Mrs. 
Gilbert." 

The  plot  of  Needles  and  Pins  was  complicated  and 
sentimental,  and  it  was  not  a  play  that  could  live  any 
number  of  years  in  any  theatre,  but  the  comedy  scenes 
were  genuine  good  fun.  I  suppose  that  its  most  con- 
spicuous merit  was  that  it  was  unlike  anything  to  be 
seen  elsewhere  in  New  York  at  that  time.  It  belonged 
to  the  group  of  plays  that  Daly  adapted  from  the 
German.  Some  were  better  than  others,  but  the  stand- 
ard did  not  change  much.  They  were  always  very 
pleasing,  light  and  clean. 

The  company  and  the  performances  were  beginning 
to  attract  attention  and  it  was  somewhere  around  this 
time  that  Mark  Twain  and  other  people  prominent  in 
literature  and  art  began  to  come  to  the  theatre.  I 
remember  that  Mark  Twain  told  me  in  those  early 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  85 

days  that  he  had  thought  of  writing  a  play  for  the 
Daly  Company.  It  was  a  grand,  brilliant  and  original 
idea.  At  least  so  he  thought  when  he  began  to  work 
upon  it.  The  play  was  a  dream  play,  and  in  the  end 
it  all  came  out  right  and  the  disasters  that  happened  in 
the  play  were  mere  distortions  of  the  imagination. 
Before  submitting  the  play  to  Daly  he  thought  that  he 
would  take  it  to  some  friend  who  knew  something 
about  dramatic  construction;  so  he  submitted  the 
manuscript  to  Sinclair  McKelway  of  the  Brooklyn 
Eagle. 

All  this  Twain  told  me  with  that  characteristic 
drawl  which,  had  anyone  perfected  and  imitated  it  on 
the  stage,  would  have  been  labeled  at  once  as  down- 
right impossible. 

When  Twain  got  his  play  back  from  his  friend  there 
was  no  comment,  just  a  list  of  the  hundreds  of  differ- 
ent plays  from  400  B.  C.  to  the  time  he  was  writing 
which  had  had  this  same  original  idea  of  violent  hap- 
penings that  turn  out  to  be  merely  dreams. 

With  Needles  and  Pins,  then,  we  had  settled  down 
to  the  success  and  prosperity  which  lasted  all  through 
the  eighties.  It  was  less  than  eight  years  before  that 
Ada  Rehan  and  I  had  played  together  for  the  first  time 
on  the  stage  of  the  Arch  Street  Theatre.  With  all  the 
praise  and  attention  that  were  shov/ered  upon  her  Ada 


86  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

Rehan's  point  of  view  never  changed.  She  was  always 
the  same  unaffected,  natural  person  of  the  early  days. 

I  felt  that  I  had  made  quite  an  impression,  and  I  am 
afraid  that  I  conveyed  this  idea  to  Joseph  Jefferson  in 
a  talk  that  I  had  with  him.  He  was  an  old  friend  of 
my  mother's  and  I  think  that  he,  with  the  best  of  good 
nature,  took  upon  himself  the  task  of  correcting  any 
false  idea  I  might  have  about  my  position  in  the 
theatre. 

To  point  a  moral  and  to  convince  me  that,  however 
big  I  might  think  myself,  there  was  certain  to  be  some 
one  a  little  bigger,  he  told  me  that  when  he  had  made 
his  great  success  with  Rip  Van  Winkle — the  play  that 
was  to  immortalize  him  and  that  he  was  to  do  every- 
where for  years  to  come — he  thought  himself  fairly 
important  and  that  everyone  knew  of  his  success.  At 
the  very  least  he  felt  that  he  had  put  Washington 
Irving  on  the  map  with  this  Boucicault  version  of  Rip. 

One  night,  after  the  theatre,  as  he  was  going  to  his 
room  in  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel,  a  stockily  built  man 
with  a  grizzly  beard  got  into  the  elevator. 

"Are  you  playing  in  town  now,  Mr.  Jefferson?'*  he 
asked. 

Jefferson,  as  he  replied  in  the  affirmative,  rather 
pitied  the  man  for  his  ignorance  and  his  total  lack  of 
understanding  of  what  was  going  on  in  the  world. 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  87 

What  a  simpleton  he  must  be  who  did  not  know  that 
Rip  was  having  a  record  run! 

When  this  man  reached  his  floor  and  got  out  Jeffer- 
son asked  the  elevator  boy:    "Who  was  that*?" 

"Why,"  said  the  boy,  in  his  turn  pitying  Jefferson 
for  his  ignorance,  "that's  General  Grant  I" 


CHAPTER  TEN 

GET  onto  Jacob  Earwig,"  said  James  Lewis,  who 
was  standing  back  of  me.    He  looked  over  my 
shoulder  toward  the  prompt-entrance. 

He  was  playing  Gru??iio^  one  of  my  servants  in  The 
Taming  of  the  Shrew,  but  in  all  the  excitement  and 
tenseness  of  that  night,  January  i8th,  iSqj — the  most 
important  first  night  in  the  history  of  Daly's  Theatre — 
he  was  sufficiently  calm  to  call  attention  to  a  man  in 
evening  dress  sitting  in  the  first  entrance  and  holding 
out  a  magnificent,  beaten-silver  ear  trumpet.  . 

Later,  when  I  got  a  chance  to  look  that  way  I  saw 
that  it  was  Horace  Howard  Furness,  the  Shakespearian 
scholar.  He  was  very  deaf.  Certainly,  for  no  less  a 
person  than  Furness  would  Daly  have  departed  from 
his  rigidly  enforced  custom  of  allowing  no  one  behind 
the  scenes.  I  did  not  dare  look  at  Lewis  during  the 
rest  of  the  performance  for  fear  that  I,  in  my  first- 
night  nervousness,  might  laugh  and  blow  up. 

As  with  most  actors,  Lewis  remembered  the  parts  he 

himself  had  played,  and  in  an  old  farce  called  Boots 

88 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  89 

at  tile  Swan  there  was  a  deaf  old  man,  the  low-comedy 
character,  and  his  name  was  Jacob  Earwig. 

The  production  of  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew  was 
much  heralded  in  advance.  All  during  rehearsals  we 
were  led  to  believe  that  this  was  to  be  a  great  and 
history-making  production.  The  strange  fact  is  that  it 
was.  Nothing  that  Daly  had  hoped  for  the  production 
before  the  first  night  turned  out  to  be  too  extravagant. 
It  was  at  once  taken  up  and  acclaimed  by  the  press. 
For  years  afterwards  this  performance  of  The  Taming 
of  the  Shrew  was  talked  of  as  an  historical  event,  and 
certainly  it  was  the  highest  point  of  achievement  in 
Daly's  career  of  many  successes.  It  was  perhaps  a  sur- 
prise to  the  public,  but  no  more  so  than  it  was  to  us, 
that  a  company  which  had  made  its  success  in  light 
comedies  from  the  German  should  reach  its  highest 
point  in  a  Shakespearian  comedy.  We  had  not  been 
very  happy  or  successful  in  The  Merry  Wives  of 
Windsor. 

By  1887  the  four  principal  actors  of  the  Daly 
Theatre  were  so  firmly  intrenched  in  the  public's  favor 
and  so  much  identified  with  the  succession  of  plays  that 
Daly  would  not  run  the  risk  of  leaving  one  of  this 
group  out  of  the  cast.  Accordingly,  into  the  trivial  and 
unimportant  role  of  Curtis.,  a  retainer  of  Petruchio^  he 
put  the  ever  popular  Mrs.  Gilbert.    Curtis  is  really  a 


90  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

man's  role,  but  there  was  precedent  for  Daly's  putting 
Mrs.  Gilbert  into  the  part,  as  a  Mrs.  LeBrun  had 
played  Curtis  when  Clara  Morris  played  Katherine 
and  Louis  James  Petruchio  at  the  Academy  of  Music 
some  years  before.  In  the  whole  line  of  light  comedies 
Mrs.  Gilbert  and  Lewis  had  played  opposite  each 
other,  and  Curtis  enabled  her  to  play  a  low-comedy 
scene  with  Grumio,  which  was  played  by  Lewis  on  this 
occasion. 

At  the  end  of  the  performance  Horace  Howard 
Furness,  being  already  on  the  stage,  was  the  first  to 
reach  us.  He  congratulated  Ada  Rehan,  the  Kath- 
erine^ and  me,  the  Petruchio.  I  do  not  see  how  he 
could  have  heard  any  of  the  play  even  from  his  vantage 
point  in  the  first  entrance,  for  he  was  so  deaf  that  it 
was  necessary  to  shout  into  his  ear  trumpet. 

Katherine  was  that  night,  and  always  remained,  the 
greatest  part  in  Ada  Rehan's  long  list  of  performances. 
Petruchio  was  to  me  the  most  grateful  role  that  I  have 
played.  It  has  everything  that  the  player  of  high 
comedy  can  desire:  telling  speeches  and  effective  situa- 
tions ;  in  fact,  everything  that  makes  for  and  makes  up 
a  great  part.  Since  Petruchio  is  a  great  Shakespearian 
character,  it  may  be  imagined  how  gratifying  it  was 
to  be  told  by  everyone  whose  opinion  and  judgment  I 


Photo,  by  Saroni/. 


ADA    REHAN    AS    KATHERINE 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  91 

regarded  that  I  had  come  out  of  the  effort  successfully. 

The  Taming  of  the  Shrew  was  really  a  novelty  in 
1887.  A  short  version  of  the  play  known  as  Katherine 
and  Petruchio  had  been  played  by  a  number  of  trage- 
dians when  they  wanted  a  rest.  This  garbled  version, 
which  consisted  mainly  of  the  horse-play  scenes  in 
which  Fetruchio  brandishes  his  whip  and  the  leg  of 
mutton  about  the  stage,  had  been  played  by  Edwin 
Booth.  It  was  this  version  that  Clara  Morris  and 
Louis  James  had  played ;  in  fact,  for  stage  use  the  play 
had  come  to  be  known  as  Katherine  and  Petruchio. 
The  Daly  production  went  back  to  the  play  as  written 
and  The  Induction  was  restored.  Presumably,  the 
characters  in  The  Induction  were  then  played  for  the 
first  time  in  America. 

Christopher  Sly,  a  drunken  tinker,  is  observed  by  a 
lord  and  his  servants  as  they  are  coming  from  a  hunt. 
Sly  has  been  thrown  out  of  an  alehouse.  It  occurs  to 
the  lord  to  dress  this  fellow  up  and  when  he  comes 
round  to  serve  him  with  all  ceremonies  and  make  him 
believe  that  he  is  a  great  lord.  The  real  lord  has  his 
page,  a  part  very  well  played  by  the  youthful  Willie 
Collier,  dress  up  as  a  woman  and  pretend  to  be  the  wife 
of  Sly.  When  everything  is  ready  the  real  lord, 
dressed  as  a  servant,  comes  to  him  and  says : 


92  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

Your  honor's  players,  hearing  your  amendment, 
Are  come  to  play  a  pleasant  comedy: 
For  so  your  doctors  hold  it  very  meet. 
Seeing  too  much  sadness  hath  congeal'd  your  blood, 
And  melancholy  is  the  nurse  of  frenzy ; 
Therefore,  they  thought  it  good  you  hear  a  play 
And  frame  your  mind  to  mirth  and  merriment, 
Which  bars  a  thousand  harms  and  lengthens  life. 

Sly  answers :  "Marry,  I  will ;  let  them  play  it." 
By  this  time  they  have  made  Sly  believe  that  he  is 
really  a  lord.  He  and  the  page,  dressed  as  his  lady, 
sit  at  the  side  of  the  stage  down  left,  and  then  the  play 
begins.  They  are  removed  after  the  first  act  and  they 
do  not  appear  again,  but  the  whole  action  of  the  play 
is  supposed  to  be  before  this  tinker  and  his  lady. 

After  the  one-hundredth  performance  of  The  Tam- 
ing of  The  Shrew  there  was  a  supper  on  the  stage  of 
the  theatre.    Of  this  the  New  York  Herald  recorded: 

Mr.  Augustin  Daly's  supper,  given  to  his  com- 
pany and  a  few  invited  guests  on  the  stage  of  his 
theatre  yesterday  morning,  was  a  remarkable 
event  in  several  ways.  It  commemorated  the  one- 
hundredth  night  of  a  Shakespearian  revival  of 
more  than  usual  splendor  and  it  brought  together 
many  remarkable  men. 

The  company  sat  down  at  one-half  past  twelve 
and  rose  at  five  in  the  morning.  A  great  circular 
table  occupied  the  entire  stage.  Its  center  was  a 
mass  of  tulips  and  roses.  Around  its  outer  edge 
sat  forty  participants.      Think  of  a  supper   at 


./^p"^' 


% 


From  Tluutrc  Collection,  Harvard   Viiircrtiiti/. 

AN   EARLY   PICTURE    OF   MAURICE    BARRYMORE 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  93 

which  General  Sherman  acted  as  toastmaster,  at 
which  Horace  Porter  made  an  unusually  clever 
speech,  Mark  Twain  told  a  story,  Bronson  How- 
ard and  Wilson  Barrett  spoke,  at  which  Miss  Ada 
Rehan  made  a  neat  and  charming  response  when 
her  name  was  called,  at  which  the  ever  young 
Lester  Wallack  commended  in  the  heartiest 
way  the  brother  manager  whose  guest  he  was,  at 
which  Willie  Winter  read  a  poem  of  home  manu- 
facture. Imagine  all  this  and  add  to  it  countless 
witty  stories  that  were  told  around  the  board, 
think  of  the  wine  glasses  that  clicked,  think  of  the 
champagne  that  bubbled,  think  of  the  pretty 
women,  think  of  the  weird  surroundings  (the 
dark  cave-like  auditorium  and  the  brilliantly 
lighted  stage). 

The  Taming  of  the  Shrew  was  the  most  successful 
but  not  the  first  of  the  Shakespearian  plays  to  be  pro- 
duced during  my  days  at  Daly's.  On  October  14, 
1886,  we  had  performed  The  Merry  Wives  of  Wind- 
sor with  this  cast : 

Sir  John  Falstaff  Charles  Fisher 

.  Master  Slender  James  Lewis 

Sir  Hugh  Evans  Charles  Leclercq 

Doctor  Caius  William  Gilbert 
Host  of  the  Garter  Inn      Frederick  Bond 

Mistress  Page  Virginia  Dreher 

Mistress  Quickly  Mrs.  G.  H.  Gilbert 

Fenton  E.  Hamilton-Bell 

Master  Shallow  John  Moore 

Francis  Ford  John  Drew 

George  Page  Otis  Skinner 


94  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

Ancient  Pistol  Geo.  Parkes 

Corporal  Nym  John  Wood 

Bardolph  H.  Roberts 

Robin  Bijou  Fernandez 

Simple  William  Collier 

Rugby  E.  P.  Wilkes 

Mistress  Ford  Ada  Rehan 

Anne  Page  Edith  Kingdon 

This  revival  was  not  especially  successful,  and  it 
had  a  run  of  only  thirty-five  performances.  Nor  did 
the  members  of  the  company  shine  in  this,  except  per- 
haps Otis  Skinner,  who  had  recently  joined  the  com- 
pany. He  had  been  playing  Shakespeare  with  Law- 
rence Barrett  and  his  Page  was  a  sound  performance. 

Our  third  Shakespearian  performance  was  A  Mid- 
summer Night's  Dream  which  was  produced  early  in 
1888.  Lewis  was  Bottom,  Otis  Skinner  was  Lysander. 
I  was  Demetrius.  Joseph  Holland  was  Theseus,  Bijou 
Fernandez  was  Fuck,  Ada  Rehan  was  Helena,  Virginia 
Dreher  was  Hermia  and  EfRe  Shannon  was  Titania. 

Appropriately  enough,  we  were  playing  A  Midsum- 
mer  Nighfs  Dream  on  that  Monday  night  in  March, 
1888,  when  the  great  blizzard  occurred.  There  were 
more  people  on  the  stage  than  there  were  in  the  audi- 
ence. The  house  was  sold  out  for  some  performances 
to  come  and  Daly  would  not  postpone  the  performance. 
I  walked  to  the  theatre  under  the  Sixth  Avenue  Ele- 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  99 

vated  tracks  and  arrived  with  little  inconvenience. 
Ada  Rehan  had  gone  to  South  Brooklyn  to  visit  her 
mother  and  had  great  trouble  in  getting  to  the  theatre. 
The  carriage  that  Daly  sent  for  her  earlier  in  the  day 
managed  to  get  back  with  her,  but  it  was  a  long,  diffi- 
cult drive.  As  I  remember,  only  Leclercq  and  one 
other  member  of  the  cast  failed  to  appear.  They  had 
gone  out  of  town  for  Sunday. 

The  production  of  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream 
was  elaborate,  but  not  so  elaborate  as  the  Shakespearian 
productions  of  Henry  Irving.  Moreover,  it  showed 
one  of  the  limitations  of  the  Daly  Theatre,  and  that, 
that  a  desire  for  novelty  sometimes  led  the  manager 
astray.  Henry  Irving  and  many  others  called  attention 
to  the  extraordinary  and  fussy  confusion  of  the  stag* 
ing.  At  the  end  of  one  of  the  acts  there  was  a  great 
panorama  which  moved  across  the  back  of  the  stage 
to  suggest  the  moving  of  the  barge  of  Theseus.  At  the 
very  end  profile  figures  on  wings  or  side  pieces  were 
pushed  onto  the  stage;  painted  people  were  waving 
things  and  these  canvas  people  did  not  jibe  with  the 
real  people  on  the  stage.  Irving  thought  it  worse  than 
stupid. 

In  the  revival  of  As  You  Like  It  Ada  Rehan  was 
Rosalind^  Henrietta  Crosman,  Celia,  Isabel  Irving, 
Audrey^  James  Lewis  was  Touchstone,  George  Clark, 


96  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

Jaques^  Hobart  Bosworth,  Charles^  and  I  was  Orlando. 
This  was  the  first  appearance  of  Henrietta  Crosman  at 
Daly's  Theatre.  I  had  played  in  a  scene  from  As  You 
Like  It  once  before  and  that  was  at  a  benefit  for  Fanny 
Davenport  at  the  Fifth  Avenue  Theatre.  On  that  oc- 
casion I  played  Jaques  de  Bois,  the  second  son  of  old 
Sir  Rowland  de  Bois.  This  is  a  small  part  and  the 
character  only  comes  on  at  the  end  of  the  play.  In  that 
performance  Lawrence  Barrett  was  the  Jaques.  After- 
wards he  came  over  and  talked  to  me.  I  had  never 
met  him.  He  had  known  my  father,  and  he  knew  my 
mother. 

The  following  spring  we  played  As  You  Like  It  on 
the  lawn  of  the  Farwell  estate  at  Lake  Forest,  near 
Chicago.  It  had  been  raining  for  many  days  and  the 
ground  was  so  damp  that  it  was  necessary  for  the 
women  to  wear  rubbers.  It  was  of  course  a  daylight 
performance,  and  we  did  not  know  how  to  make  up; 
that  is,  adapt  our  regular  make-up  for  daylight.  We 
appealed  to  William  Gilbert,  who  had  once  been  with 
a  circus,  but  as  he  had  been  a  clown  his  ideas  of  make- 
up were  not  very  helpful  to  those  of  us  who  were  sup- 
posed to  be  living  in  the  Forest  of  Arden. 

George  Clarke  suggested  that  we  use  some  stuff 
called  bolarmenia.  This  is  a  brownish  make-up  that  is 
used  for  Indian  characters,  and  he  thought  that  a  little 


From  Theatre  Collection,  Harvard   Unlrersity. 


ADA  REHAN   AS  ROSALIND^  JOHN  DREW   AS   ORLANDO,  IN      AS  YOU   LIKE   IT 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  97 

of  this  on  our  cheeks  would  give  us  the  healthy  appear- 
ance of  people  who  live  in  the  open  air.  He  imparted 
this  information  with  so  much  assurance  that  we 
thought  he  must  know  what  he  was  talking  about.  I 
went  on  with  this  stuff  on  my  face.  My  appearance 
in  the  mirror  was  not  too  reassuring,  but  I  fancied  that 
the  distance  of  the  spectators  from  the  stage  in  this 
beautiful  amphitheatre  would  take  care  of  things  and 
offset  to  some  degree,  at  least,  the  strange-looking 
image  that  I  saw  in  my  mirror. 

In  the  scene  where  they  try  to  dissuade  Orlando 
from  wrestling  with  the  great  fellow  Charles^  Celia  has 
a  speech: 

Young  gentleman,  your  spirits  are  too  bold  for 
your  years.  You  have  seen  cruel  proof  of  this 
man's  strength;  if  you  saw  yourself  with  your 
eyes  or  knew  yourself  with  your  judgment,  the 
fear  of  your  adventure  would  counsel  you  to  a 
more  equal  enterprise.  We  pray  you,  for  your 
own  sake,  to  embrace  your  own  safety  and  give 
over  this  attempt. 

During  this  speech  Ada  Rehan  looked  at  me  for  the 

first  time,  and  apparently  she  had  never  seen  anything 

so  funny;  and  she   laughed   so  much   that   she  was 

scarcely  able  to  give  the  speech  of  Rosalind: 

Do,  young  sir;  your  reputation  shall  not  there- 
fore be  misprised;  we  will  make  it  our  suit  to  the 
duke  that  the  wrestling  might  not  go  forward. 


98  MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

"You  looked  like  an  effeminate  Indian,"  she  told  me 
afterwards. 

My  long-haired  wig  added  to  this  impression.  We 
found  out  later  that  George  Clarke  had  just  tried  out 
an  experiment  on  us  and  that  he  had  not  played  under 
similar  conditions  before. 

In  the  wrestling  scene  upon  this  occasion  Hobart 
Bosworth,  who  was  the  Charles — the  giant  that  Or- 
lando throws — did  not  take  the  ordinary  precautions 
that  we  took  in  this  scene  upon  the  stage.  He  thought 
that  the  soft,  damp  ground  would  protect  him.  When 
he  was  thrown  he  landed  on  the  point  of  his  shoulder, 
and  it  was  so  painful  that  he  uttered  a  ringing  oath. 
Fortunately,  the  distances  were  so  great  that  he  was 
heard  only  by  the  actors.  Altogether  our  open-air 
performance  was  not  a  happy  one. 

There  was  an  all-star  performance  of  the  same  play 
— As  You  Like  It — for  some  charity  given  on  the 
property  of  Agnes  Booth  at  Manchester  on  the  Massa- 
chusetts coast  one  summer.  Crane,  Robson,  Frank 
Mayo,  Rose  Coghlan  and  many  other  famous  people 
were  in  the  cast.  Mayo,  who  was  a  great  popular 
favorite,  was  the  Jaques.  He  had  some  very  long 
waits  and  as  it  was  a  very  warm  day,  he  had  walked 
over  to  the  hotel  for  a  cooling  glass.    In  the  midst  of 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  99 

a  conversation  with  a  friend,  he  was  interrupted  by  a 
call  boy.  Jaques  was  wanted.  It  was  his  great  en- 
trance into  the  Forest  of  Arden.  It  was  time  for  the 
speech,  "The  Seven  Ages  of  Man."  Thinking  to  save 
time,  he  took  a  short  cut,  which  led  over  some  fences. 
As  he  got  near  where  the  stage  was  he  began  reciting 
his  speech  to  give  the  impression  that  he  really  wasn't 
late  but  was  on  the  job  all  the  time.  This  is  an  old 
dodge,  often  resorted  to  in  the  theatre,  but  Mayo  had 
not  calculated  his  distances  very  closely  and  when  he 
arrived  on  the  scene,  panting  and  breathless,  his  speech, 
"The  Seven  Ages  of  Man,"  was  all  gone. 

Love's  Labour's  Lost  was  the  last  of  the  Shake- 
spearian revivals  that  I  played  in  at  Daly's.  After  I 
had  left,  Ada  Rehan  played  both  Viola  and  Portia^ 
but  Katherine  was  always  her  great  character. 

Love's  Labour's  Lost  had  been  produced  by  Daly  at 
The  Fifth  Avenue  Theatre  in  1874  and  at  that  time, 
which  must  have  been  one  of  the  first  productions  of 
this  play  in  New  York,  Ada  Dyas,  Fanny  Davenport, 
Davidge,  Harkins,  Fisher,  Louis  James  and  Hart 
Conway  .appeared. 

Though  his  first  production  of  this  little  acted  play 
was  not  a  success  Daly  decided  to  revive  it  in  March, 
1891,  with  this  cast: 


loo         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 


The  King  of  Navarre 

longaville 

Don  Adrian©  de  Armado 

Sir  Nathaniel 

Holofernes 

The  Princess  of  France 

Jacquenetta 

BiRON 

Boyet 

Mercade 

Dull 

Costard 

Rosaline 

Maria 

Moth 

Katherine 


John  Drew 
Hobart  Bosworth 
Sidney  Herbert 
Charles  Leclercq 
Harry  Edwards 
Ada  Rehan 
Kitty  Cheatham 
Geo.  Clarke 
Charles  Wheatleigh 
Wilfred  Buckland 
William  Sampson 
James  Lewis 
Edith  Crane 
Adelaide  Prince 
Flossie  Ethel 
Isabel  Irving 


Willie  Collier,  who  made  his  first  appearance  on  the 
stage  in  Shakespeare,  as  the  page  in  The  Induction  of 
The  Taming  of  the  Shrew,  came  into  the  theatre  as 
a  call  boy.  Even  as  a  boy  he  had  an  extraordinary 
manner  of  saying  perfectly  absurd  and  ridiculous 
things  with  the  utmost  seriousness.  Lewis,  a  comedian 
himself,  took  the  greatest  delight  in  Collier  and  en- 
couraged him  greatly.  Collier  was  an  excellent  mimic, 
and  his  imitation  of  Daly  was  uncanny. 

One  day  Collier  was  talking  to  Lewis  and  myself  in 
a  dressing  room  and  imitating  Daly.  John  Moore,  the 
stage  manager,  was  looking  for  Daly  to  consult  him 
about  something  upon  which  an  immediate  decision 


Photo,  hij  Saroni/. 

JOHN    DREW    AS    THE    KING    OF    NAVARRE    IN    "LOVE'S    LABOUR  S    LOST' 


**_     ^         _  *^ 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  loi 

was  required.  He  heard  Daly  talking  in  our  dressing 
room.  He  stood  aghast  outside  the  door,  for  the  things 
that  the  supposed  Daly  was  saying  were  unlike  any- 
thing that  Daly  could  possibly  have  said.  The  matter 
was  urgent,  and  he  had  to  interrupt.  When  he  knocked 
and  entered  and  found  that  Daly  really  wasn't  there 
he  was  so  dazed  that  he  left  the  room  without  a  word. 

We  never  heard  further  from  the  incident,  but  we 
impressed  upon  Collier  that  he  must  keep  his  imitations 
of  Daly  for  our  ears  alone.  Lewis  enjoyed  them  so 
much  that  he  was  loath  to  give  them  up  altogether. 

We  were  all  very  sorry  when  Willie  Collier  left  the 
company.  I  was  especially  so,  because  it  broke  up  our 
baseball  club.  He  was  a  capital  pitcher  and  an  ex- 
tremely good  organizer.  We  had  no  catcher  and 
usually  recruited  someone  from  the  property  room  of 
the  theatre  we  were  playing  to  fill  that  position.  Some- 
times a  scene  shifter  received  Collier's  delivery.  Steve 
Murphy,  who  later,  as  Steve  Grattan,  played  a  number 
of  parts  at  the  old  Lyceum,  was  really  a  good  first  base- 
man. Otis  Skinner  played  second  and  I  played  short. 
Joe  Holland  was  at  third.  In  right  field  was  Wood, 
a  son  of  Mrs.  John  Wood,  that  splendid  comedienne 
and  a  great  favorite  of  the  London  stage.  Frederick 
Bond  was  in  left  field  and  Thomas  Patten,  ex-Post- 
master of  New  York,  played  center.     We  had  great 


102         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

fun,  and  it  kept  us  all  in  splendid  physical  shape. 
When  we  had  no  games  to  play  we  practiced  every 
morning.  We  played  on  tour  with  local  teams.  In 
Chicago,  on  one  trip,  we  had  two  fine  games — one  with 
the  team  of  the  Union  Club  and  the  other  with  a  team 
representing  the  Board  of  Trade. 


CHAPTER  ELEVEN 

OF  the  light  comedies  produced  at  Daly's  perhaps 
the  most  successful  was  A  Night  Off.  It  was 
typical  of  the  long  line  of  plays.  Daly  made  this  from 
the  German  of  Franz  and  Paul  Von  Schonthan.  The 
original  of  the  play  was  called  Der  Raub  der  Sabin- 
erinnen.  We  did  this  play  later  in  London  and  in 
Germany.  In  New  York  it  was  produced  early  in 
March  and  ran  through  the  rest  of  the  season.  It  was 
revived  many  times  and  always  seemed  uproariously 
funny.  As  a  play  it  was  the  cleverest  and  the  most 
interesting  adaptation  that  Daly  made  from  the 
German. 

In  this  play  a  fly-by-night  manager  produces  a  play 
written  by  an  old  professor.  James  Lewis  was  Profes- 
sor Babbitt^  and  Leclercq  was  the  theatrical  manager. 
The  whole  action  centers  around  this  play.  Miss 
Rehan  had  the  ingenue  part  of  Nisbe;  Mrs.  Gilbert 
played  the  wife  of  the  professor.  I  played  Jack  Mul- 
berry^ a  younger  son  of  an  important  English  family. 
As  he  could  not  act  he  had  drifted  into  this  bad 

theatrical  company.     Otis  Skinner  was  Damask  and 

103 


104         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

May  Irwin  was  Susan,  a  soubrette.  Daly  had  seen 
May  Irwin  at  Tony  Pastor's.  As  ever  in  his  career,  he 
liked  to  find  his  own  people.  What  went  on  in  other 
theatres  he  considered  trivial  and  always  of  secondary 
importance  to  Daly's.  He  found  May  Irwin  and  she 
joined  the  company  to  play  this  part  of  Susan.  She 
was  an  extraordinary  hit  and  very  funny  in  a  type  of 
soubrette  role  which  has  almost  disappeared  from  the 
stage. 

On  the  last  night  of  A  Night  Off  a  rhymed  tag  or 
epilogue,  written  by  Edgar  Fawcett,  the  author  of  Our 
First  Families,  which  had  first  served  to  bring  together 
the  four  players  who  were  most  closely  associated  with 
Daly's  during  the  eighties,  was  read  by  the  actors,  each 
one  having  a  couplet.  This  ended  with  some  sort  of 
an  introduction  of  Augustin  Daly.  The  manager 
would  then  come  on  and  make  a  speech  of  acknowl- 
edgment for  the  season  which  had  just  passed.  This 
always  happened  at  the  end  of  the  season,  and  Daly 
never  appeared  on  the  first  night  of  a  new  production 
or  the  first  night  of  a  season. 

Sometimes  Fawcett  varied  this  epilogue  and  one  or 
two  of  the  players  would  have  something  a  little  longer 
than  a  distich  to  recite.  On  one  occasion,  to  make  a 
rhyme  or  a  quantity  correct  Fawcett  referred  to  Daly 
as  "the  colonel."    Daly  objected  to  the  rank  thus  con- 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  lo^ 

f erred  upon  him,  and  Fawcett  changed  the  lines  so  that 
he  should  be  called  "the  governor."  From  that  time 
on  we — that  is,  those  of  us  who  were  close  to  the  man- 
ager— always  called  Daly,  "governor." 

It  would  be  difficult  to  imagine  a  company  in  which 
there  was  greater  accord  than  there  was  at  Daly's. 
Everything  was  so  fine,  and  the  associations  were  so 
pleasant.  No  one  took  offense  if  the  morning  greeting 
was  not  as  friendly  as  it  should  have  been;  for  we  were, 
in  a  sense,  like  a  family.  Once,  playing  cricket  in 
Chicago,  I  hurt  my  foot  very  badly.  I  spent  an  eve- 
ning of  torture  on  the  stage  trying  to  disguise  my  hurt. 
Mrs.  Gilbert  and  Miss  Rehan  were  devoted  in  their 
attention  during  the  next  few  days.  Both  in  and  out 
of  the  theatre  each  had  consideration  for  the  others. 
Our  relations  were  more  than  cordial ;  they  were  affec- 
tionate. We  were  interested — that  is,  the  so-called  Big 
Four ;  we  had  an  interest  in  the  theatre.  We  were  not 
partners  but  every  year  we  received  a  bonus  or  a  pres- 
ent. I  have  a  gold  cigarette  case  which  Daly  gave  me 
one  year  at  the  end  of  the  season.  Inside  was  a  check 
which  represented  my  share  of  the  profits.  This  semi- 
partnership  gave  us  a  feeling  of  responsibility,  though 
I  am  unwilling  to  think  that  the  knowledge  of  that 
bettered  our  performance. 

By  the  middle  eighties  first  nights  at  Daly's  had 


io6         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

come  to  be  important  affairs.  As  performances  they 
were  in  no  way  different  from  any  other  performance. 
Rehearsals  were  so  constant  that  first  nights  were  as 
smooth  as  later  ones.  But  the  audiences  were  very 
fine  and  made  up  of  brilliant  and  prominent  people. 
General  Sherman,  General  Horace  Porter,  Mark 
Twain,  H.  C.  Bunner,  George  William  Curtis,  Charles 
Dudley  Warner,  Frank  R.  Stockton,  Edmund  Clarence 
Stedman,  Stanford  White,  F.  D.  Millet,  Edwin  A. 
Abbey  and  many  others  became  very  closely  interested 
in  what  went  on  at  Daly's,  and  they  usually  tried  to 
be  present  at  the  first  night  of  a  new  play  or  the  revival 
of  an  old  one. 

Mark  Twain  once  wrote  the  theatre  asking  that 
tickets  be  reserved  for  him  for  the  first  night  of  a 
revival.  He  ended  his  letter:  "I  have  written  wonder- 
ful books,  which  have  revolutionized  politics  and  re- 
ligion in  the  world;  and  you  might  think  that  this  is 
why  my  children  hold  my  person  to  be  sacred;  but  it 
isn't  so;  it  is  because  I  know  Miss  Rehan  and  Mr. 
Drew  personally." 

Many  critics  thought  that  our  best  light  comedy  was 
Nancy  and  Company.  It  was  a  clever  adaptation  of 
Rosen's  Halbedichte^  with  the  scenes  and  characters 
transferred  to  New  York.  Ada  Rehan  and  I  played 
familiar  characters  opposite  each  other. 


From  Theatre  Collection,  Harvard  Univcrsitij. 


otis  skinner,  edith  kingdon,  and  john  drew  in 
"nancy  and  company" 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  107 

In  Love  on  Crutches  I  was  Sidney  Austin^  the  anony- 
mous writer  of  a  sentimental  novel  and  Ada  Rehan  was 
Annie  Austin^  my  wife,  who  is  dissatisfied  with  her 
home  and  yearns  for  a  freer  existence.  She  has  entered 
into  a  correspondence  with  an  author.  She  does  not 
use  her  real  name.  Thus,  these  two  young  people  who 
believe  themselves  unhappily  married,  conduct  a  secret 
correspondence  with  each  other  in  the  belief  that  they 
have  found  their  affinities.  The  happy  ending  is 
always  in  sight.  This  play,  though  of  little  substance, 
was  well  acted,  and  it  introduced  to  Daly  audiences 
Edith  Kingdon,  the  late  Mrs.  George  Gould.  As 
Margery  Gwyn,  she  gave  a  spirited  and  beautiful 
comedy  performance. 

The  Railroad  of  Love,  taken  from  Goldfische  by 
Rosen,  was  a  light  comedy  which  may  not  have  been 
an  exact  picture  of  American  society,  but  it  was  re- 
ceived with  enthusiasm  and  held  the  stage  for  some 
months.  Miss  Rehan  was  Val  Osprey  and  I  was  Lieu- 
tenant Howell  Everett.  Her  part  was  that  of  a  widow 
experienced  in  coquetry.  The  lieutenant  was  expert 
in  the  subtle  arts  of  the  lady-killer. 

Edward  A.  Dithmar  writing  at  the  time  described 
the  action  of  this  play  as  follows: 

They  had  met  briefly  before,  but  the  gentleman 
did  not  immediately  recognize  the  lady  when  they 


io8         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

were  introduced  at  Mrs.  Van  Ryker's  ball.  She 
remembered  vividly,  however,  and  could  not  sup- 
press her  smiles  when  she  recalled  him  in  the  act 
of  captivating  two  simple  little  frauleins  in  a 
German  railway  carriage.  They  flirted,  of  course. 
He  employed  all  his  arts,  but  she  outwitted  him. 
Then  chance  or  Cupid  favored  him  and  she  was 
defeated.  It  was,  at  first,  a  merry  war  of  wit  and 
mock  sentiment,  but  before  two  days  had  passed 
they  were  desperately  in  love.  Then,  before  they 
fully  understood  each  other,  that  venomous  rep- 
tile. Jealousy,  had  crept  across  their  flower-strewn 
path,  and  when  it  had  slinked  out  of  sight  again 
the  woman  had  written  a  letter  that  had  to  be 
recalled  before  he  knew  of  its  existence  and  she 
was  at  her  wit's  end  to  accomplish  this  purpose. 
There  was  a  scene,  then,  full  of  passion  and  emo- 
tion, which  lifted  the  comedy  far  above  the  level 
of  frivolous  entertainment.  The  picture  of  Drew 
and  Miss  Rehan  exchanging  soft  words  from 
either  side  of  a  half-open  boudoir  door  remains 
vividly  in  the  memory  of  folks  who  saw  The  Rail- 
road of  Love,  when  it  was  a  new  play.  The  scene, 
too,  in  which  Drew,  as  the  blind  slave  of  Love, 
sat  obediently  and  patiently  bending  over  an  em- 
broidery frame  and  bungling  the  stitches,  "one, 
two,  three,  four,  cross,"  was  novel  and  taking. 

This  play  was  typical  of  a  long  line  of  plays.  And 
the  description  of  the  action  of  The  Railroad  of  Love, 
might  almost  be  substituted  for  the  synopsis  of  a  num- 
ber of  others.  The  acting  and  the  direction  of  the 
stage  made  these  plays.     The  success  of  the  Daly 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE         109 

Company  was  due  to  these  two  things  rather  than  to 
the  plays. 

But  all  the  adaptations  from  the  German  were  not  so 
successful  as  Needles  and  Pins,  A  Night  Off,  Nancy 
and  Company,  The  Railroad  of  Love,  and  Love  on 
Crutches.  The  Passing  Regiment  was  well  played, 
but  the  effort  to  transplant  a  typically  German  mili- 
tary story  to  American  soil  was  not  very  happy.  The 
visit  of  a  crack  militia  regiment  to  a  fashionable  sum- 
mer resort  was  scarcely  an  equivalent  for  the  quarter- 
ing of  professional  soldiers  upon  the  residents  of  a 
town  by  government  order.  Some  of  the  happenings 
were  as  foreign  to  American  soil  as  anything  could  be. 

Dollars  and  Sense,  After  Business  Hours,  Love  in 
Harness,  An  International  Match,  and  The  Great 
Unknown  were  all  from  the  German  and  maintained 
a  fair  standard,  even  if  they  were  not  extraordinary 
successes. 

We  did,  for  the  first  time  in  America,  a  number  of 
Pinero's  plays:  The  Squire,  Dandy  Dick,  Lords  and 
Commons — a  failure,  The  Cabinet  Minister  and  The 
Magistrate.  The  Squire  resembled  Hardy's  story, 
*Tar  From  the  Madding  Crowd."  There  was  a  law- 
suit over  this  in  England.  Pinero  insisted  that  the 
story  had  been  told  him,  and  that  he  had  not  read  the 
Hardy  book.    Comyns  Carr  made  a  dramatization  of 


no         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

Hardy's  story  and  this  was  done  in  England  and  at  the 
Union  Square  Theatre  in  New  York,  where  Frederick 
de  Belleville  played  the  leading  part.  Daly  was  in 
no  wise  involved  in  this  suit.  In  our  version  Ada 
Rehan  was  Kate  Verity  and  I  her  impetuous  lover, 
Lieutenant  Erick  Thorndike. 

In  Dandy  Dick  I  played  the  caricature  role  of  Major 
Tarver.  This  play  was  not  a  real  success,  nor  was  The 
Cabinet  Minister.  When  Ada  Rehan  heard  and  read 
the  part  that  was  assigned  to  her  in  the  latter,  she  re- 
fused to  play  it.  She  insisted,  and  with  a  great  deal 
of  justification,  that  the  leading  woman's  role  offered 
her  no  opportunities.    Isabel  Irving  played  it  instead. 

When  we  played  The  Magistrate^  Pinero  came  over 
to  superintend  the  production.  Daly  wanted  to  put 
Ada  Rehan  into  the  part  of  Cis  Farringdon,  the  boy 
whose  mother  will  not  allow  him  to  grow  up,  as  this 
will  fix  her  own  age.  Daly  thought  that  because  Ada 
Rehan  had  made  a  success  as  a  boy  in  some  of  the  old 
comedies  she  could  do  this  modern  boy.  Pinero  would 
not  have  it.  He  threatened  to  take  his  play  away  from 
Daly  if  the  latter  were  to  persist  in  this  casting. 

Pinero,  himself,  brought  over  from  London  E.  Ham- 
ilton-Bell to  play  the  boy  and  he  was  very  good  in  the 
part.    Bell  later  designed  the  costumes  for  The^  Tarri' 


Photo,  hi/  !<<(roiiy. 


JOHN    DREW   AND    ADA    REHAN    IN       THE    SQUIRE,      BY 
ARTHUR    WING    PINERO 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE         in 

ing  of  The  Shrew.  Ada  Rehan  played  Mrs.  Posket, 
the  mother  of  the  boy  Daly  wanted  her  to  play. 

The  American  production  of  The  Magistrate  was 
not  altogether  a  happy  time  for  Pinero.  He  did  not 
like  the  idea  of  my  playing  Colonel  Lukyn^  nor  was  I 
too  happy  at  the  prospect  of  playing  the  part.  The 
colonel  is  a  choleric,  Anglo-Indian  officer.  John  Clay- 
ton had  played  the  character  in  London,  and  he  was  at 
that  time  just  what  the  part  called  for — a  big,  stout, 
explosive  man.  For  the  first  time  at  Daly's  I  played 
an  old  man.  I  had  to  pad,  to  puff  out  my  cheeks,  wear 
side  whiskers  and  sparse  white  hair. 

When  I  came  to  where  Daly  and  Pinero  were  stand- 
ing on  the  stage  at  the  dress  rehearsal  I  waited  for 
Daly  to  offer  some  criticism  of  my  make-up,  but  he 
merely  nodded  and  walked  away. 

"Do  you  think  the  governor  is  displeased  with  my 
appearance*?"  I  asked  Pinero. 

The  author  was  amused  at  Daly's  attitude;  he 
chuckled  a  minute  and  then  said:  "He  merely  thinks 
that  in  acquiring  a  stout  old  man  he  has  lost  a  slim 
leading  man." 

On  the  opening  night  Pinero  was  not  in  the  theatre. 
He  walked  around  New  York  until  the  play  was  nearly 
over.    He  should  have  been  there  to  respond  to  a  cur- 


112         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

tain  call  at  the  end  of  the  second  act.  As  he  had  been 
nervous  about  the  whole  production,  he  had  absented 
himself  and  thought  that  if  there  would  be  any  dem- 
onstration for  the  author  it  would  be  at  the  end  of  the 
play,  as  is  the  case  in  London.  When  he  got  to  the 
theatre  and  saw  the  people  filing  out  silently  he 
thought  the  play  was  a  failure. 

He  came  behind  the  scenes  and  shook  his  head ;  "It 
didn't  go,  I  suppose*?" 

We  told  him  that  it  was  a  big  success  and  that  the 
play  had  gone  very  well.  There  had  been  a  call  for 
him.  We  explained  that  there  seldom  is  any  great 
amount  of  applause  at  the  end  of  a  play  in  New 
York.  If  a  speech  is  called  for  from  the  author  it  is 
almost  always  at  the  end  of  the  second  or  third  act,  as 
the  people  here  always  seem  to  be  in  so  great  a  hurry 
to  get  out  of  the  building  at  the  end  of  the  play. 

The  cast  for  The  Magistrate  was : 

Mr.  Posket  James  Lewis 

Mr.  Bullamy  Charles  Fisher 

Col.  LuKYN  John  Drew 

Captain  Vale  Otis  Skinner 

Cis  Farringdon  E.  Hamilton-Bell 

AcHiLLE  Blond  Frederick  Bond 

Inspector  Messiter  Augustus  Yorke 

Agatha  Posket  Ada  Rehan 

Charlotte  Virginia  Dreher 

Beatie  Tomlinson  Edith  Kingdon 

PoPHAM  May  Irwin 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  113 

A.  M.  Palmer,  produced  a  great  many  plays  from 
the  French.  Daly  in  my  time  in  his  theatre,  found 
little  inspiration  in  the  French  authors.  We  did  do 
Sardou's  Odette,  which  was  rather  grim  and  somber. 
It  scarcely  seemed  to  fit  the  Daly  repertoire.  It  was 
interesting  only  in  that  it  gave  Ada  Rehan  a  chance  to 
do,  with  great  success,  an  emotional  role.  We  also  did 
Sardou's  Golden  Widow,  which  was  called  Marquise 
in  the  original. 

I  played  Adolphus  Doubledot  in  The  Lottery  of 
Love.  This  play  was  an  adaptation  from  the  French 
of  MM.  Bisson,  and  Mars.  Coquelin  played  it  in  this 
country  in  French  with  the  original  title:  Les  Sur- 
prises du  Divorce.  Before  his  season  opened  he  came 
to  Daly's  and  saw  our  version.  He  congratulated  Ada 
Rehan  upon  her  acting  in  what  was  a  rather  minor 
role,  but  he  said  nothing  at  all  to  me  and  I  gathered 
he  did  not  altogether  approve  of  my  performance.  A 
short  time  afterwards  he  was  playing  the  original  play 
across  the  street  at  Palmer's  Theatre. 

Augustin  Daly  was  fond  of  the  old  comedies,  and  he 
spent  a  great  deal  of  time,  patience  and  rehearsal  upon 
these  plays.  They  were  not  always  successful,  for  the 
spirit  had,  in  a  number  of  cases,  fled  long  before  these 
revivals.  It  was  quite  impossible  to  breathe  life  into 
Farquhar's  The  Recruiting  Officer.  When  Daly  did 
this  in  February  of  1885  it  had  not  been  given  in  New 


114         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

York  for  forty-two  years.  The  previous  performance 
was  at  the  old  Park  Theatre  in  Park  Row.  In  this 
production  my  mother  acted  Silvia^  the  part  played  at 
Daly's  by  Ada  Rehan. 

This  play  is  important  in  the  history  of  New  York, 
for,  according  to  Allston  Brown  in  "A  History  of 
the  New  York  Stage,"  The  Recruiting  Officer  was  one 
of  the  first  plays  to  be  given  in  New  York.  It  was 
performed  as  early  as  1734,  and  it  had  an  important 
production  at  the  first  Nassau  Street  Theatre,  Septem- 
ber 30,  1750.    This  was  the  opening  of  the  season. 

Our  production  was  given  February  7,  1885,  with 
the  parts  distributed  as  follows : 

Captain  Plume  John  Drew 

Capt.  Brazen  George  Parkes 

Justice  Ballance  Charles  Fisher 

Sergeant  Kite  James  Lewis 

Worthy  Otis  Skinner 

Bullock  William  Gilbert 

Appletree  Frederick  Bond 

Pearman  Edward  Wilks 

Stewart  W.  H.  Beekman 

Mistress  Melinda  Virginia  Dreher 

Rose  May  Fielding 

Lucy  May  Irwin 

Sylvia  Ada  Rehan 

The  revival  lasted  only  about  two  weeks  and  then 
She  Would  and  She  Would  Not  was  revived.    Colley 


From  Theatre  Collection,  Harvard   Unirersiti/. 

ADA   REHAN   AND   JOHN   DREW   IN    FARQUHAr's    "tHE   RECRUITING   OFFICER* 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  115 

Cibber  had  written  this  play  in  imitation  of  the  Span- 
ish comedy  of  intrigue.  As  was  the  case  with  The 
Recruiting  Officer,  this  play  had  to  be  shortened  and 
edited  for  use  at  Daly's.  The  role  of  Hypolita,  which 
was  played  by  Miss  Rehan,  and  that  of  Don  Phillip, 
which  fell  to  me,  were  artificial  and  by  no  means  easy 
to  perform.  Both  of  these  performances  gained  in 
later  years  by  repetition. 

The  Country  Girl,  which  was  Garrick's  adaptation 
of  Wycherly's  The  Country  Wife,  was  still  further 
altered  so  as  to  include  scenes  from  Congreve's  Love 
for  Love.  In  this  Ada  Rehan  was  Peggy  Thrift,  and 
I  played  the  leading  juvenile,  Belleville.  Ada  Rehan's 
Peggy  was  a  matchless  portrayal.  Her  success  in  this 
was  so  great  that  she  kept  the  play  in  her  repertoire 
for  many  years. 

Of  course  one  of  the  finest  of  the  old  comedy  pro- 
ductions was  The  School  for  Scandal.  This  time  Daly 
did  not  make  the  mistake  that  he  had  made  at  the  Fifth 
Avenue  Theatre.  Then  he  so  rearranged  Sheridan's 
comedy  as  to  destroy  the  continuity  of  the  scenes.  In 
his  second  production  the  text  was  altered,  but  not  to 
so  great  an  extent.  He  did,  however,  change  the  card 
party  at  Lady  SneerwelVs  to  a  dance.  I  had  never 
played  the  part  of  Charles  Surface  before,  except 
in  the  screen  scene  which  had  been  done  at  a  benefit 


ii6         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

performance   at   the   Academy   of   Music    in   Phila- 
delphia. 

The  second  Daly  revival  of  The  School  for  Scandal 
was  a  great  success  and  the  cast  was: 

Sir  Peter  Teazle  Charles   Wheatleigh 

Sir  Oliver  Surface  Harry  Edwards 

Sir  Benj.  Backbite  Sidney  Herbert 

Sir  Harry  Bumper  James  Macauley 

Mrs.  Candour  Mrs.  G.  H.  Gilbert 

Lady  Sneerwell  Adelaide  Prmce 

Lady  Teazle  Ada  Rehan 

Joseph  Surface  George  Clarke 

Charles  Surface  John  Drew 

Crabtree  Charles  Leclercq 

Careless  H.  Bosworth 

MosES  James  Lewis 

Rowley  John  Moore 

Trip  Frederick  Bond 

Snake  Sidney  Bowkett 

Maria  Edith  Crane 

John  Ranken  Towse,  in  his  "Sixty  Years  of  the 
Theatre,"  has  been  so  gracious  as  to  record:  "As 
Charles  Surface  John  Drew  gave  one  of  the  most  ar- 
tistic performances  of  his  career.  His  impersonation 
was  second  only  to  that  of  Charles  Coghlan.  Espe- 
cially was  it  praiseworthy  for  its  artistic  restraint  in 
the  drinking  scene.  He  was  perhaps  a  trifle  too  cool, 
insufficiently  mercurial  for  the  reckless  company  he 
affected,  but  he  evidently  remembered  that  Charles^ 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  117 

with  all  his  follies,  was  a  decent  fellow  at  bottom  and 
not  wholly  unworthy  of  the  eulogies  of  his  old  friend 
Rowley.  His  manner  was  elegant,  and  he  spoke  his 
lines  without  exaggerated  emphasis,  but  with  a  full  ap- 
preciation of  their  humor." 

In  all  these  productions  of  old  comedy  I  had  one 
very  great  advantage  which  the  other  members  of  the 
cast  did  not  have.  During  the  rehearsals  of  one  of 
these  plays  I  always  talked  over  both  the  play  and  the 
part  I  was  to  play  with  my  mother.  She  knew  how 
the  characters  were  to  be  built  up,  and  their  traditions, 
and  she  knew  the  stage  business  which  had  been  tried 
and  found  successful. 


CHAPTER  TWELVE 

Wilt  thou  have  music?  hark!  Apollo  plays 
And  twenty  caged  nightingales  do  sing. 

THESE  words,  which  were  accompanied  by  a 
chorus  of  voices  off  stage,  were  my  general  cue 
for  getting  ready — that  is,  putting  on  my  wig  and  the 
final  touches  of  my  make-up,  before  going  on  to  the 
stage  as  Petruchio  in  the  play  proper  of  The  Taming  of 
the  Shrew.  This  speech  from  The  Induction  is  in  the 
scene  in  which  the  real  lord,  dressed  as  a  servant,  is 
trying  to  convince  Sly  that  he,  one  Christopher  Sly,  is 
really  not  a  tinker,  but  a  lord. 

On  a  night  in  August  of  1888,  when  I  heard  these 
lines,  I  was  leaning  out  of  a  window  of  a  turretlike 
dressing  room  in  the  Shakespeare  Memorial  Theatre 
at  Stratford-on-Avon.  It  was  in  the  long,  English 
summer  twilight  and  an  eight  came  into  sight  on  the 
river.  As  the  music  which  had  always  been  my  cue 
sounded,  the  coxswain  gave  the  order  to  cease  rowing, 
and  the  eight  floated  past  the  theatre.    The  rowers  were 

appreciative  listeners  to  the  chorus.     They  did  not 

118 


From  Theatre  Collection,  Harvard  Unirrrsitii. 

JOHN   DREW  AS  PETRUCHIO  IN   "tHE  TAMING  OF  THE   SHREw' 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  119 

know  that  an  American  company  was  playing  The 
Taming  of  the  Shrew  in  Shakespeare's  home  town. 

Actually,  the  performance  that  night  was  no  differ- 
ent from  the  one  we  ordinarily  gave,  but  I  think  it  was 
the  most  picturesque  night  I  have  ever  spent  in  the 
theatre. 

The  house  bill  announced  that  at  The  Memorial 
Theatre,  Friday,  August  3,  1888,  Mr.  Augustin  Daly's 
company  of  American  Comedians  would  give  for  the 
benefit  of  the  memorial  library  fund  Shakespeare's  com- 
edy The  Taming  of  the  Shrew,  as  presented  by  them 
for  one  hundred  twenty-five  nights  in  New  York  and 
lately  played  with  great  success  at  The  Gaiety  Theatre, 
London.  The  bill  went  on  to  add :  "This  comedy,  as 
presented  by  Mr.  Daly's  Company,  will  be  performed 
for  the  first  time  in  Stratford-on-Avon,  and  the  pro- 
ceeds will  be  generously  devoted  to  the  Library  Fund 
of  the  Shakespeare  Memorial." 

Earlier  that  day  we  had  gone  to  Stratford.  We 
were  personally  conducted  by  William  Winter,  who 
was  always  at  the  Daly  parties  in  New  York  or  Lon- 
don, and  on  special  trips  like  this  he  invariably  ac- 
companied us.  As  he  had  written  books  about  the 
Shakespeare  country,  he  was  the  acknowledged  head  of 
the  expedition  and  in  front  of  the  Shakespeare  house  he 
made  a  speech.    We  were  quite  a  crowd,  for  in  addi- 


I 


memorial  mbeatre,  @ttatfor5sonsja;von, 

Friday  Evening,  August  8rd,  1888, 

AT   7.30, 

A  UCUSTIN  DALY'S  COMPANY  OF  COMEJDUNS 

m    8iiAK£iiI>EARE-S   COMEDT, 

W^e  Warning  of  tl^$  ^l^vutw, 

(Proimrwl  for  the  occasion  by  AUQUSTIN    DAI/T). 

Characters  in  the  "Induction." 

*  '""'' -" - -  - Mr.  Oeobob  C1.A11KR 

r|,ri«l<,|,).<,r  Hly A  dnutim  Tinhr Mr.  Wii.uam  G.LBtET 

A  """'""'"' .„ Mr.  Euo£XK  Okiiom> 

'Hi..  1I.«I««.    MIssLmiK   St.  QUEXT.X 

^  'H"'  - JitpracHtinj  a  ladf MbsUt  W.  Coujbr 

"""'«""" - Messrs.  nKT-.M,  MuBPiiY,  ntid  Finx»v 

"">■""    lle8srs.BoKr)nn.lWoot. 

Persons   in    the   Comedy. 

llftlifiHta  ...._ A  rich  sfnlUmm  cf  Pndm Mr.  CiUElM  Fishkb 

V"'<""1>"  ^ An  old gmlUnum  of  1-ita _ Mr.  Joun  Moobe 

liiiouiitio    Son  to  Vinetntio,  lacing  Jlianca Mr.  Otis  8ku»seb 

rntriicio  ...  .„ A  ffmlltm/ut  of  Veronn,  tuilor  to  Kalhtritu.. Mr.  Jou.f  Dbbw 

**"-■""" An  old gmtteman    I    SuUori  to    ^    ...Mr.  (Jm.vbles  I-ECLsn<4 

lIortonHio  „ A  young  gentleman    I       liianca      ]    ...  Mr.  Joseph  Hotuisn 

A  r»bmt ^.An  oUfcUow,  ut  up  to  represent  Fi^centio Mr.  Joirv  Wood 

"""•»'■>    Sencing  man  to  Petrueio Ma.  James  Lens 

i'::'t"^'   I      S^rr^toLu^entio     i Mr.  R  P.  Woks 

T™n'0    i  {  Mr.  FftEDEaicK  BoTO 

Ouojdx,  &«.,  hj  lliantM  CJompboU,  Soars,  Conron,  Vislniro,  FerrcU,  Cooke,  &o. 

^*1"'"««' TJu  Shrew Miss  Ada  Eehax 

"'""^    ^'r  Ki,ter Miss  Pikebb  Ecssnx 

A  Widonr Who  marrlet  Ifortauia BIi«s  AucB  Hoon 

'^«^'»  0/ rctrueio;  hausekoU Mw.  O.  IL  OlwicsT 


,31 


From  Theatre  Collection,  Harvard  University. 

AUGUSTiN  Daly's  most  famous  production 

120 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  121 

tion  to  the  entire  cast  for  a  big  Shakespearian  produc- 
tion there  were  Daly,  his  wife  and  his  brother ;  William 
Winter;  an  American  playwright,  Henry  Dam;  the 
attendant  stage  people  and  all  the  London  correspon- 
dents of  the  American  newspapers. 

In  front  of  the  Shakespeare  House,  just  as  Winter 
was  making  his  speech,  two  natives  were  attracted  to 
this  unusually  large  crowd,  thinking  that  something 
had  happened,  that  someone  had  dropped  dead  or  had 
had  a  fit.    They  listened  a  minute  to  Winter. 

"Aw,  come  on.  Bill,"  said  one  of  them;  "it's  the 
same  old  game." 

They  had  seen  American  tourists  before,  and  on  the 
rest  of  our  long  walk  to  Anne  Hathaway's  cottage  we 
attracted  little  attention. 

In  the  afternoon  we  rowed  on  the  river.  Daly,  who 
always  stage-managed  things,  even  to  the  seats  the 
minor  people  were  to  occupy  on  trains,  arranged  us  in 
boats.  Otis  Skinner  and  I  rowed  the  boat  in  which 
Daly  and  Mrs.  Daly  and  Ada  Rehan  were  seated.  At 
one  point  one  of  the  other  boats  threatened  us.  As  it 
was  part  of  Daly's  scheme  that  he  should  be  first,  we 
were  urged  to  new  effort  and  were  soon  in  the  lead. 

During  our  stay  in  Stratford  we  stopped  at  the  Red 
Lion  Inn.  On  the  night  of  our  arrival  we  dined  at 
Clopton  Hall,  the  residence  of  Sir  Arthur  Hodgson, 


122         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

the  mayor  of  Stratford.  The  Lord  of  The  Induction  of 
The  Taming  of  the  Shrew  is  supposed  to  be  the  Baron 
Clopton  of  Shakespeare's  time,  and  the  hall  where  the 
play  is  supposed  to  be  given  before  Christopher  Sly, 
the  hall  in  which  we  were  now  entertained.  The  next 
day  we  had  luncheon  at  Avonbank,  the  residence  of 
Charles  Flower,, and  Robert  Laffan,  the  headmaster  of 
the  King  Edward  VI  Grammar  School,  entertained  us 
at  tea. 

The  attention  that  we  received  on  this  visit  to  Strat- 
ford was  very  different  from  the  reception  that  we  got 
on  our  unheralded  first  visit  to  London  in  the  summer 
of  1884.  Then  the  social  season  was  over,  and  we  were 
really  too  late  to  do  well.  We  played  in  a  little  thea- 
tre, Toole's,  in  King  William  Street,  just  off  the 
Strand. 

Before  our  opening  Jim  Lewis  and  I  went  to  see 
Charles  Wyndham  and  Mary  Moore  at  the  Criterion. 
This  graceful  comedian,  who  had  been  a  surgeon  in  the 
American  Civil  War  and  was  always  a  great  favorite 
in  this  country,  was  playing  one  of  those  delightfully 
done  English  comedies  that  he  and  Mary  Moore  did  for 
so  many  years. 

Lewis  and  I  came  away  from  this  performance 
gloomily.    We  did  not  think  that  our  company  could 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  123 

succeed  where  people  were  accustomed  to  such  work 
as  Wyndham  and  his  associates  were  giving.  We 
opened  in  y—20—8^  one  of  our  numerous  plays  from  the 
German.  We  were  required  in  London  to  call  this 
play  by  its  subtitle,  Casting  a  Boomerang.  Yorke 
Stephens  had  copyrighted  a  play  from  the  German 
original  and  had  used  the  title  y—20-8.  We  did  Dol- 
lars and  Sense,  also  a  modern  play;  but  our  greatest 
success  was  won  with  the  old  comedy,  She  Would  and 
She  Would  Not.  After  our  London  engagement  we 
returned  to  New  York.  The  venture  was  not  signally 
successful,  nor  yet  so  discouraging  as  to  prevent  our 
returning. 

The  second  visit  to  London  was  in  May,  1886.  This 
time  the  season  was  right.  The  company  opened  in 
A  Night  Off.  *'It  was  a  greeting  to  dear  old  friends, 
and  in  spirit  at  least  there  was  a  hearty  shaking  of 
hands  across  the  footlights,  with  Mr.  Lewis  and  Mrs. 
Gilbert,  Mr.  Drew  and  Miss  Rehan,  Mr.  Skinner  and 
Miss  Dreher  and  their  clever  companions,"  observed 
The  Era.  The  same  paper  also  said:  "Nowhere  is 
greater  regard  paid  to  the  sex,  and  this,  of  course,  is 
reflected  upon  the  stage.  There  women  are  placed  on 
a  nearly  equal  status  with  men,  in  personal  liberty,  in 
intellectual  attainments;  comedy  is  likely  to  flourish; 


124         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

and  if  the  comedy  of  America  has  hardly  as  yet  taken 
the  highest  place,  there  is  little  doubt  as  to  its  ultimate 
development,  influence  and  power." 

Of  our  performance  in  Nancy  and  Company,  which 
followed,  the  Saturday  Review  said:  "There  is  not 
now  in  London,  an  English  company  as  well  chosen, 
as  well  trained,  as  brilliant  in  the  abilities  of  its  indi- 
vidual members,  or  as  well  harmonized  as  a  whole,  as 
the  admirable  company  which  Mr.  Daly  directs.  They 
suggest  the  Comedie  Frangaise  at  its  very  best,  when 
it  is  not  frozen  stiff  by  its  own  chill  dignity.  Every 
performance  shows  that  they  are  controlled  by  a  single 
mind  strong  in  the  knowledge  of  its  own  aim  and 
ability." 

Of  course  by  this  time  we  were  very  successful  and 
had  acquired  a  tremendous  following.  We  were  talked 
of  and  asked  about  a  great  deal.  At  a  reception  a 
woman  asked  me:    "Have  you  seen  the  Dalys^" 

I  said :  "Oh,  yes,  I  glanced  over  The  Post  and  The 
Telegraph" 

"Oh,  no,"  she  protested,  "I  mean  the  Dalys."  Then 
she  recognized  me  as  one  of  the  players. 

Henry  Labouchere,  that  great  journalist  and  editor, 
wrote  in  Truth:  "When  Daly  first  came  to  England, 
the  company  was  pronounced  by  our  theatrical  guides, 
philosophers  and  friends  as  a  complete  failure.     At 


From  Theatre  Collection,  Harvard  University. 

JOHN  DREW,   MRS.    GILBERT,   AND    JAMES    LEWIS,    IN    "7-20-8,"   THE   FIRST 
PLAY    DONE    BY   AUGUSTIN    DALy's    COMPANY    IN    LONDON 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  125 

present,  although  the  company  is  the  same  and  the 
plays  are  the  same,  everything  is  declared  to  be  perfec- 
tion." 

Royalty  attended  our  performances,  and  one  night, 
when  we  were  playing  at  the  Gaiety  Theatre,  the  Prince 
of  Wales,  later  Edward  VII,  asked  Ada  Rehan  and  my- 
self to  come  into  his  box.  With  him  was  his  wife,  now 
the  dowager  Queen  Alexandra,  and  a  young  relation 
of  hers  from  Denmark.  The  Prince  of  Wales  was 
very  affable,  but  he  rather  ignored  Daly  who  ushered 
us  into  the  box.  In  the  managerial  department  of  the 
London  theatres  everyone  wore  dirmer  clothes.  Daly 
never  dressed  for  the  theatre. 

The  Prince  of  Wales  asked  us  whether  or  not  Shakes- 
peare was  popular  in  America.  He  had  seen  the  ad- 
vance billing  that  we  were  to  do  The  Taming  of  the 
Shrew.  The  play  that  night  was  Love  on  Crutches, 
and  he  did  not  seem  to  care  for  it.  This  play  never 
did  go  so  well  in  London  as  it  had  in  New  York. 

When  we  got  back  to  the  stage  some  of  the  other 
players  crowded  round  us.  They  wanted  to  know 
about  our  reception. 

"Who  was  the  other  man  in  the  box*?"  asked  Le- 
clercq. 

"He  is  one  of  the  Princes  of  Denmark.  The  Prin- 
cess of  Wales  is  his  aunt,"  I  explained. 


126         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

"What's  he  doing  over  here?" 

"I  don't  know.  They  did  not  let  us  in  on  the  pur- 
pose of  his  mission." 

"I  know  what  he's  doing  here,"  said  Jim  Lewis;  'lie 
has  come  over  here  from  Denmark  to  collect  royalties 
from  Henry  Irving  for  Hamlet" 


CHAPTER  THIRTEEN 

ON  our  trip  abroad  in  1886,  we  went  to  Germany 
and  played  in  Hamburg  and  Berlin.  This  was 
the  first  and  only  time  that  an  entire  American  com- 
pany visited  Germany.  This  jaunt,  which  Daly  under- 
took as  an  advertisement  of  the  company,  was  really 
a  greater  success  than  might  have  been  supposed.  Of 
course,  in  neither  German  city  were  they  particularly 
pleased  with  the  adapted  version  of  their  own  plays, 
played  by  an  English-speaking  company.  The  writers 
of  these  plays  were  extremely  glad  to  see  us,  as  they 
had  made  a  good  thing  out  of  the  Daly  adaptations 
and,  because  of  the  higher  royalties  paid,  they  made 
more  money  out  of  the  American  rights. 

In  Hamburg  six  plays  were  given:  Love  on 
Crutches,  A  Night  Off,  Nancy  and  Company,  A  Wo- 
man's Won't,  The  Country  Girl  and  ^he  Would  and 
She  Would  Not.  For  the  two  English  plays.  The 
Country  Girl  and  She  Would  and  She  Would  Not  full 
arguments  were  printed  in  the  program.  It  was  taken 
for  granted  that  the  German  farces  would  be  familiar, 

and  merely  the  title  and  author  of  the  German  plays 

127 


128         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

were  given.  It  so  happened  that  Love  on  Crutches^ 
that  is  to  say,  the  German  play  from  which  it  was 
made,  had  never  been  given  in  Han;burg,  and  the  audi- 
ence was  as  much  bewildered  as  if  the  play  were  to- 
tally foreign.  The  performance  started  out  with  a 
good  deal  of  vivacity,  but  as  scene  after  scene  went  by 
without  any  appreciation  or  laughter  the  players  nat- 
urally became  subdued  and  a  little  bewildered. 

In  Berlin  we  opened  in  A  Night  Off.  This  play  had 
been  an  enormous  success  when  done  in  the  original 
and,  while  it  was  allowed  that  our  performance  was 
smooth,  the  whole  was  declared  to  be  lacking  in  distinc- 
tion. The  estimate  of  the  players  varied.  One  critic 
wrote  that  Miss  Rehan  was  a  "good  soubrette"  and 
another  that  "Miss  Rehan,  the  darling  of  the  company, 
was  ridiculous  in  tasteless  gowns."  The  general  opin- 
ion seemed  to  be  that  Mrs.  Gilbert  was  not  funny. 
Some  critics  thought  Lewis  too  funny  to  be  natural, 
and  others  found  his  naturalness  astonishing.  Skin- 
ner and  I  got  off  easily  and  were  said  to  give  value  to 
our  dry  humor. 

The  two  old  comedies.  She  Would  and  She  Would 
Not  and  The  Country  Girl,  were  highly  praised,  espe- 
cially the  acting.  Nancy  and  Company  met  a  better 
fate  than  A  Night  Off  in  which  we  opened.  The  orig- 
inal German  of  this  had  not  been  successful,  and  the 


Soimabend  Abend,  den  28.  August  1886. 

Letztes  Gastspiel  und  zweite  Aufiihrung 

VOD 

Herrn  .^-u.grujs'tlis.  Uaiy's 

amoribanische  Bearbeitnng  des  weltberQhmten  Schwinks  in  4  Aiifzilgen 

,J}er  Baab  der  SabiQerinnen"  von  F.  und  1*.  v.  Schuothiio, 

ODter  dem  neuen  Titol: 

A  IVig^ht  Off. 

PER80NEN: 

Jrstifjom.Bahbiit,-  Profcgaor- icr  VorgBir^iiP-  10  der 

CniveTsitSt  m  Camptown Mr.  JAMES  LEWIS 

Harry  Damask,  dessen  Scbwiegersohn Mr.  OTIS  SKINNER 

Jack  Mulberry,   ein  Gl&cksj^er,   noter  dem  NamcD 

„Chom]ey" Mr.  JOHN  DREW 

Lord  Mulberry,  doMcn  Valer Mr.  WM.  GILBERT 

Marcos  Bmtns  Snap,  Director  einer  Schauspielertroppe  Mr.  CHARLES  LECLERCQ 

Prowl,  Tbarstehcr  an  der  DniversiUt Mr.  P.  BOND 

Mrs.  Zantippa  Babbitt,  Frao  Professorin,  Vorstaod  des 

Hauswesens ,    .  Mrs.  6.  H.  GILBERT 

Angelica  Damask,  deron  alteste  Tochter    .    ,    .    .    .  Miss  VIRGINIA  DREHER 

Susan,  Dienstmadchen  bei  dem  Professor Miss  MAY  JRWIN 

Maria,  Dienstmagd  bei  Dr.  Damask Miss  MAY  SYLVIE 

Nisbe,  der  jftngste  „Dnhold"  dor  Familie Miss  ADA  REHAN 

Ort  der  Haodluag:    Abwechselod  bei  dem  P*  fcssor  nod  in  Dr.  DamasVs  Wobnap^. 

Zeit:   Gegftrfcart 


AN     AMERICAN     COMPANY     TAKES     AN     ENGLISH     VERSION     OF     A 
GERMAN  PLAY  BACK  TO  GERMANY 


129 


130         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

critics  were  shocked  to  find  that  it  was  more  humorous 
in  the  adaptation  than  in  the  original. 

Of  the  performance  the  Berliner  Tagehlatt  said: 
"We  see  them  on  their  strongest  side,  an  exuberant  hu- 
mor which  passes  all  bounds,  and  which  our  Germans 
have  not  courage  to  attempt  for  fear  of  lapsing  into 
the  coarse." 

The  English-speaking  people  all  attended  our  per- 
formances. 

When  we  were  in  Berlin  the  King  of  Portugal  was 
visiting  the  old  Kaiser,  and  I  saw  the  whole  royal  fam- 
ily. There  was  a  great  crowd  on  Unter  den  Linden,  and 
I  asked  a  policeman  what  they  were  waiting  for,  and 
he  told  me  that  the  Kaiser  was  coming  from  Potsdam 
and  would  be  along  shortly.  The  carriage  came  into 
sight  presently.  Amid  the  acclaim  of  the  crowd,  the 
German  emperor  touched  his  helmet  in  salute  with 
white  gloved  hand.  In  the  next  carriage  were  Freder- 
ick Wilhelm,  then  the  crown  prince,  and  the  King  of 
Portugal.  In  the  third  carriage  was  this  last  Kaiser, 
now  in  exile.  I  was  told  that  the  old  emperor  lived  in 
the  utmost  simplicity,  and  that  he  had  a  camp  bed  in 
his  palace. 

When  we  left  London  for  Hamburg  just  three  mem- 
bers of  our  company  could  speak  any  German — Henry 
Widmer,  who  was  in  charge  of  our  orchestra,  Otis  Skin- 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  131 

ner  and  myself.  Widmer  was  a  German-American, 
Skinner  knew  some  German,  and  I  knew  a  little.  One 
other  member  of  the  company  claimed  to  know  some 
German,  but  as  he  told  Lewis  that  a  sign  on  a  car  in 
the  station  "Nicht  Rauchen"  (No  Smoking)  meant 
"Night  Riding"  or  a  Pullman  Car,  we  lost  confidence 
in  his  knowledge  of  the  language. 

In  Hamburg  we  played  at  the  Thalia  Theater  and 
stayed  at  the  Alster  Hotel.  One  night  after  the  thea- 
tre we  went  to  an  open  air  garden.  While  we  were 
having  our  sandwiches  and  beer,  a  very  eruptive,  rest- 
less child  of  about  ten  was  tearing  about  between  the 
tables. 

As  I  did  not  think  that  we  should  be  overheard  I 
said  to  Lewis:  "I  didn't  suppose  they  would  have 
such  fresh  kids  over  here." 

The  boy  stopped  and  said  to  me :  "I  can  speak  Eng- 
lish as  good  as  you.  I  know  you.  You're  James  Lewis 
and  John  Drew."  He  told  us  that  he  came  from  New 
York  and  that  his  father,  who  was  sitting  at  one  of 
the  tables  back  of  us,  had  told  him  that  we  were  actors 
in  the  Daly  Company  that  was  playing  at  the  Thalia 
Theater. 

In  Berlin  we  played  at  The  Wallner  Theater,  which 
was  an  important  theatre,  and  mounted  men  were  sta- 
tioned in  front  of  it  as  at  the  Opera  in  Paris.    The 


132         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

whole  theatre  was  extremely  well  ordered.  Maids  were 
provided  for  the  women,  and  dressers  for  the  men.  The 
dressers,  who  were  really  tailor's  helpers  or  bushelmen, 
were  very  efficient. 

The  dresser  who  looked  after  me  was  so  zealous  in 
the  performance  of  his  job  that  he  followed  me  onto 
the  stage  one  night.  In  Love  on  Crutches  there  was  a 
scene  in  the  last  act  in  which  Lewis  and  I  stood  at  the 
back  of  the  stage,  partly  concealed  from  the  audience. 
Mrs.  Gilbert  and  William  Gilbert  (he  was  no  relation 
whatever)  were  playing  a  scene  that  was  full  of  laughs 
before  an  American  audience. 

On  this  night  before  a  German  audience  it  was  going 
very  badly.  Lewis  whispered  to  me:  *T11  bet  you 
that  Grandma  gets  the  first  laugh." 

Before  I  could  answer  him  I  got  the  first  laugh,  for 
just  then  my  dresser,  who  had  followed  me  down  from 
the  dressing  room,  pulled  up  my  coat  at  the  neck.  He 
had  not  been  quite  satisfied  with  the  way  the  coat  set 
and  righted  it  in  full  view  of  the  audience. 

After  the  performance  we  went  to  a  garden  where 
we  could  get  something  to  eat  and  listen  to  some  music. 
Jim  Lewis  and  Mrs.  Lewis,  May  Irwin,  Otis  Skinner 
and  I  sat  there  under  the  trees  for  some  time.  When 
it  came  time  to  pay  our  checks,  Lewis  insisted  that  he 
would  pay.    He  suddenly  discovered  that  he  had  no 


From  Theatre  Collection,  Earva/rd  Umversitji. 
EDITH    KINGDON     (gOULd)    AS    SHE    APPEARED    WITH    THE    DALY    COMPANY 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  133 

money.  He  had  taken  the  precaution  to  change  his 
money  to  his  stage  clothes  early  in  the  evening,  but 
had  not  remembered  to  put  it  back.  He  decided  to  get 
it  now.    We  were  to  wait  for  him. 

We  sat  there  for  an  interminable  time,  and  then,  as 
Mrs.  Lewis  was  worried  about  him,  we  went  out  to 
look  for  him.  We  found  him  only  about  two  houses 
away  leaning  against  the  wall.  He  was  exhausted;  he 
had  been  wandering  about  everywhere. 

I  asked  him:  "Did  you  find  your  wad?" 

"Find  it  I  I  couldn't  find  the  theatre,"  he  said  in 
an  injured  manner.  "I  met  several  policemen  and  they 
affected  not  to  understand  me." 

"What  did  you  ask  them?" 

"Why  for  the  'Wolmar'  Theater  of  course." 

"If  you  pronounced  it  that  way,  it  is  no  wonder  they 
couldn't  direct  you  to  the  theatre,"  both  Skinner  and 
I  protested. 

Lewis  was  never  convinced  that  there  was  any 
reason  for  his  not  getting  his  money  till  the  next  day 
except  a  willful  failure  to  understand  him  on  the  part 
of  the  police. 

Our  happy  relations  were  somewhat  strained  in  Ber- 
lin by  the  abrupt  departure  from  the  company  of  Edith 
Kingdon.  Just  before  we  left  London  she  had  been 
called  upon  with  almost  no  notice  to  play  Ada  Rehan's 


134         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

part  in  A  Night  0#,  as  the  latter  was  ill.  She  played 
the  part  very  well.  In  Love  on  Crutches  she  had  scored 
a  great  comiedy  success  both  in  New  York  and  London. 
When  she  left  the  company  on  account  of  a  misunder- 
standing with  Daly,  Virginia  Dreher  was  forced  to 
play  Margery  Gwyn  without  sufficient  rehearsal. 


CHAPTER  FOURTEEN 

IN  Germany  there  was  no  entertaining  for  the  com- 
pany, but  in  London  we  were  asked  about  a  great 
deal  and  we  met  a  great  many  of  the  people  interested 
in  the  arts — the  writers,  both  English  and  American, 
editors,  painters  and  a  great  many  persons  of  our  own 
profession. 

Now  and  then  we  were  lured  to  some  outside  gather- 
ing, where  the  intent  to  make  a  circus  out  of  the  Daly 
Company  was  all  too  clear.  We  were  invited  to  a  re- 
ception at  the  house  of  a  woman  who  must  be  called  by 
the  name  that  Dickens  found  for  all  women  like  her, 
Mrs.  Leo  Hunter. 

With  Mrs.  Hunter  it  was  a  matter  of  pride  that  no 
one  came  to  her  house  who  was  not  famous  for  some- 
thing. At  this  reception  Mrs.  Hunter  was  very  much 
afraid  that  I  was  not  meeting  everybody,  and  she 
introduced  me  to  a  very  pleasant  young  man  who  was 
standing  near  us.  She  told  him  all  about  the  Daly 
Company  and  the  parts  that  I  played  in  the  various 
plays.    Then  thinking  that  I  might  get  the  impression 

that  he  was  not  known  for  anything  in  particular  and 

135 


136         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

so  that  I  might  definitely  place  him,  she  said  to  me: 
"You  may  remember  his  favorite  uncle  was  so  fright- 
fully mangled  in  the  underground  last  year." 

Of  James  McNeill  Whistler  we  saw  a  great  deal. 
One  time  at  the  house  of  an  English  authoress  he 
showed  me  his  book,  "The  Gentle  Art  of  Making  Ene- 
mies," which  I  had  not  seen  before.  He  was  on  the 
arm  of  the  sofa  on  which  I  was  sitting,  and  as  I  turned 
over  the  pages  he  would  point  our  especially  the  things 
that  seemed  good  to  him.  He  had  a  boyish  delight  in 
showing  me  the  roasts  and  the  slaps. 

The  Whistlers  were  always  late  for  dinner.  One 
night  we  were  all  at  the  house  of  Edwin  A.  Abbey,  the 
painter.  Mrs.  Whistler  arrived  first  and  apologized 
for  being  late.  She  said  that  she  had  been  detained 
because  their  house  was  on  fire.  Everyone  sympathized 
with  her. 

When  Whistler  came  in  shortly  afterwards  he  was 
entirely  unperturbed.  Mrs.  Whistler,  having  forgot- 
ten to  tell  him  that  she  meant  to  use  so  sensational  an 
excuse,  tried  to  tip  him  off:  "Well,  Jim,"  she  said, 
"how  is  the  fire?' 

"The  fire'?    What  fire?" 

"The  fire  at  the  house,"  she  said. 

"Oh,  it's  all  right,"  Whistler  said:  "it's  burning 
still." 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  137 

Whistler  of  course  thought  that  Mrs.  Whistler 
meant  the  fire  in  the  grate. 

One  Sunday  I  went  to  lunch  at  the  house  of  George 
Boughton,  the  American  painter.  Boughton  was 
standing  before  the  fire-place  with  a  man  who  was  part- 
ly bald  and  had  whitish  hair,  white  mustache  and  a 
small  white  beard — chin  whiskers  they  are  called  in 
make-up. 

Boughton  turned  to  his  companion:  "You  know 
John  Drew,  don't  you?" 

The  small  man  answered:  "No,  I  do  not;  but  I 
have  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  Mr.  Drew  and  Miss 
Rehan  act  in  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew,  and  I  am 
pleased  to  tell  Mr.  Drew  how  much  I  enjoyed  the  play 
and  how  pleased  I  was  with  such  talent  and  success." 

I  thought  to  myself:     "He's  going  a  bit  strong." 

I  asked  Boughton  when  I  got  a  chance:  "Who  is 
this  old  chap*?" 

"Robert  Browning,"  he  told  me  somewhat  impa- 
tiently. 

I  was  puzzled  at  my  own  stupidity.  It  seemed  so 
silly  that  I  should  not  recognize  the  famous  poet  whose 
picture  I  had  seen  so  many  times. 

Irving  we  saw  frequently  during  our  London  visits. 
On  my  last  trip  to  London  with  the  Daly  company  in 
the  early  nineties  we  did  As  You  Like  It.    Irving  had 


138         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

a  box  for  the  opening  night,  and  after  the  performance 
he  came  behind  the  scenes  and  congratulated  Ada 
Rehan  upon  her  Rosalind. 

He  turned  to  me,  patted  me  on  both  shoulders  and 
said:  "Drew,  you  got  away  with  that  wrestling  scene 
wonderfully,  but  of  course  you  don't  want  to  play 
Orlando;  no,  no,  no,  n-o-o." 

He  emphasized  this  in  a  fashion  that  made  it  seem 
indicative  of  but  the  faintest  praise,  and  left  me  in  no 
doubt  as  to  what  he  thought  of  my  performance. 

When  we  did  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew  in  London, 
no  one  seemed  more  genuinely  enthusiastic  about  the 
Katherine  of  Ada  Rehan  and  my  Petruchio  than  Henry 
Irving.  He  gave  a  most  delightful  supper  for  us  at 
the  Beefsteak  Club.  Ellen  Terry,  Sarah  Bernhardt, 
who  was  then  playing  in  London,  Damala,  the  Greek 
actor.  Lord  Ronald  Gower,  who  has  a  bust  of  Shakes- 
peare at  Stratford,  and  John  Tenniel,  the  cartoonist  of 
Punch,  and  the  illustrator  of  "Alice  in  Wonderland," 
were  all  at  this  supper. 

One  night  at  the  Beefsteak  Club  Frank  Burnand,  the 
editor  of  Punch,  and  a  number  of  others  were  sitting 
around  talking.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  bantering, 
and  George  Grossmith  said  of  a  remark  made  by  one 
of  the  party:  "That's  like  some  of  the  good  things 
that  are  sent  to  Punch,  Frank." 


Photo,  by  Sarony. 

JOHN  DREW  AS  ROBIN   HOOD  IN   TENNYSON's  PLAY,   "tHE   FORESTERS 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE         139 

Bumand  replied :    "Yes,  and  they  don't  get  in." 
Grossmith  answered:     "I  don't  know  who  it  is  who 
sends  the  good  things  to  Punch,  but  they  don't  get 


in." 


This  created  a  great  laugh  at  Burnand's  expense. 

Tennyson  I  met  at  his  place  in  the  country,  and  he 
talked  to  me  of  the  play  that  he  was  then  writing,  The 
Foresters.  We  did  this  play  later  at  Daly's  Theatre; 
in  fact,  the  part  of  Robin  Hood  in  this  was  the  last  new 
part  I  played  under  the  management  of  Augustin  Daly. 
I  was  no  longer  a  member  of  the  Daly  company  when 
the  play  was  done  by  them  in  London.  Arthur  Bou- 
chier  took  my  part.  The  Foresters  was  never  a  great 
success.  By  reason  of  Arthur  Sullivan's  music  and 
Daly's  production,  the  play  managed  to  run  for  a  time 
in  New  York. 

Swinburne  and  Hardy  were  at  many  of  the  dinners 
and  suppers  that  we  attended  in  London,  and  Hardy 
wrote  a  very  charming  rhymed  address  that  Ada  Rehan 
read  at  a  benefit  for  the  Actors'  Dramatic  Fund. 

Meredith  I  met  once  in  the  country.  He  was  stay- 
ing with  a  friend  near  where  we  were  at  Weybridge  in 
Surrey,  and  we  went  over  to  see  him. 

Some  of  the  other  guests  danced  in  bare  feet  on  the 
lawn. 

I  asked  Meredith  if  he  were  not  going  to  dance. 


140         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

"I  am  for  other  than  dancing  measures,"  he  said, 
quoting  from  As  You  Like  It. 

I  sat  on  the  porch  with  him  in  the  bright  moonlight. 
He  talked  of  the  dancers  and  he  thought  them  rather 
silly,  but  his  comments  were  not  caustic  and  not  nearly 
so  sharp  as  his  descriptions  of  his  characters  in  his 
books. 

One  night  at  dinner  I  was  rather  taken  aback  by 
W.  S.  Gilbert.  I  told  him  that  I  had  known,  learned 
and  loved  his  "Bab  Ballads." 

"Oh,  they're  juvenile  indiscretions,"  he  said  in  a 
rather  incisive  way  which  seemed  to  pooh-pooh  my 
estimate  of  the  work. 

He  surprised  me  still  more  when  he  told  me  that 
his  best  work  was  his  serious  plays.  The  Wicked  World 
and  Charity.  I  had  played  in  Charity  in  the  seventies 
with  the  Fifth  Avenue  Company,  and  of  the  players 
only  Fanny  Davenport  liked  the  play  at  all. 


CHAPTER   FIFTEEN 

IN  1886  when  we  played  in  Paris,  both  the  English 
and  American  Ambassadors  had  boxes  for  the  first 
performance  of  the  Daly  Company  at  the  Theatre  des 
Vaudevilles.  Coquelin  attended  every  performance, 
and  the  English  and  American  residents  were  enthusi- 
astic followers  of  our  short  season. 

The  plays  for  the  three-day  engagement  of  "La 
Troupe  Americaine  d'Augustin  Daly  du  Daly's  Thea- 
tre, New  York  {Etats  Urns)"  were  A  Woman's  Won't 
(one  act  play),  Love  on  Crutches,  A  Night  Of,  A 
Country  Girl  and  Nancy  and  Company. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  this  Paris  engagement 
was  less  than  twenty  years  after  the  Prussian  war,  and 
there  was  a  good  deal  of  bitterness  about  our  plays 
from  the  German.  It  was  argued,  with  some  justifica- 
tion, that  it  was  not  consistent  to  license  our  plays 
and  to  forbid  the  giving  of  the  operas  of  Wagner. 

One  critic  wrote:     "Mr.  Daly's  artists  probably 

have  much  talent,  but  they  deceive  themselves  and 

have  confounded  Paris  with  a  village."    Another  said 

that  Daly  hired  unknowns  to  translate  "the  low  Ger- 

141 


142         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

man  repertoire"  and  then  had  the  "effrontery"  to  put 
his  own  name  on  the  work.  M.  Besson,  of  L'Evene- 
ment,  thought  that  the  repertoire  was  "fit  only  for 
boarding  schools,"  and  M.  Sarcey,  the  leading  critic  of 
the  day,  wrote  that  the  plays  might  be  seen  by  "any 
young  girl."  These  opinions  are  interesting  because 
some  of  the  critics  thought  the  plays  too  realistic, 
coarse  and  offensive. 

Not  all  of  the  criticism  was  adverse  and  hostile. 
Some  of  the  critics  were  sympathetic.  M.  de  Blowitz, 
the  correspondent  of  the  London  Times  in  Paris,  wrote 
in  correspondence  to  his  paper  that  the  failure  of  the 
Daly  Company  to  win  the  praise  of  the  critics  in  Paris 
was  due  to  the  fact  that  the  French  writers  did  not 
know  English,  and  that  those  Frenchmen  who  under- 
stood the  language  appreciated  the  fine  acting  of  the 
company  in  light  comedy. 

It  was  very  hot  in  Paris  that  summer,  and  the  time 
we  were  not  rehearsing  or  playing,  Otis  Skinner  and  I 
spent  at  a  swimming  bath  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Seine.  The  place  was  inclosed,  but  open  to  the  sky. 
There  were  dressing  rooms  all  round  the  sides.  We 
occasioned  much  talk  by  going  up  on  top  of  these  and 
diving  into  the  water.  It  was  not  really  high,  but 
the  other  bathers  seemed  to  think  it  foolhardy  and  dan- 
gerous. 


^ 


From  Theatre  Collection,  Harvard  University. 

JOHN    DREW   AND   VIRGINIA    DREHER    IN    "tHE    COUNTRY   GIRL* 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  143 

Our  last  night  at  the  theatre  was  crowded  with  ex- 
citement. The  gas  was  turned  off  in  the  dressing  rooms 
before  some  of  us  had  time  to  wash  off  our  make-up.  I 
lost  my  trunk.  The  coneierge,  feeling  that  he  had  not 
received  a  sufficient  tip  from  Daly,  waged  a  most  fear- 
ful quarrel  with  him.  The  manager  was  accused 
among  other  things  of  having  taken  three  towels  that 
belonged  to  the  theatre. 

While  I  was  having  my  own  battle  with  the  man  I 
had  seen  take  my  trunk — and  he  professed  to  know 
nothing  about  it — I  could  hear  part  of  this  larger 
engagement. 

"What's  he  saying  now*?"  Daly,  who  spoke  no 
French,  would  demand  of  his  interpreter. 

"Oh,  I  can't  tell  you.  I  can't  tell  you,"  the  inter- 
preter would  answer  every  few  seconds. 

The  next  day,  before  we  left  town,  I  went  back  to 
the  theatre  again  and  there  was  my  trunk  in  a  con- 
spicuous place  where  I  could  not  have  failed  to  see  it, 
had  it  been  there  the  night  before.  I  put  it  on  my 
cab  without  the  help  of  any  of  the  theatre  people  and 
drove  off  amid  their  imprecations  and  anathemas. 

Two  years  later,  when  the  Daly  Company  again 
played  the  same  theatre,  the  same  stage-door  keeper 
greeted  me  as  an  old  acquaintance.  This  second  visit 
to  Paris  was  a  far  happier  experience  for  the  Daly 


144         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

Company.  This  time  we  gave  three  plays  during  an 
engagement  that  lasted  six  days:  Nancy  and  Com- 
pany^ The  Railroad  of  Love  and  The  Taming  of  the 
Shrew. 

The  critics  devoted  their  attention  to  Shakespeare. 
A  writer  in  Le  Petit  Journal  exclaimed:  "Pauvre 
Shakespeare!  What  crimes  are  committed  in  thy 
name,  and  how  fortunate  that  thou  hast  been  dead 
some  time!"  M.  Sarcey  found  the  comedy  illogical. 
He  could  see  no  fun  in  one  character  hitting  another 
with  a  leg  of  mutton.  When  I  read  this  criticism  to 
Daly,  he  was  amused  and,  though  he  knew  no  French, 
he  at  once  called  attention  to  Moliere's  Le  Marriage 
Force,  in  which  stuffed  rocks  and  clubs  are  plied  with 
great  advantage  on  the  classic  French  stage. 

Many  of  the  critics  thought  there  was  too  much 
horse  play;  they  were  shocked  when  Katherine  boxed 
Petruchio^s  ears.  They  found  too  much  violence  in  the 
playing.  Then,  too,  the  play  was  coarse  and  flat  and 
dull. 

Figaro,  which  discovered  that  I  resembled  Irving, 
said:  "The  attitudes,  movements,  walk,  speech  and 
action  of  these  Americans  are  so  different  from  what 
we  are  accustomed  to  see  and  hear  that  there  would 
be  neither  justice  nor  profit  in  criticising  them.  It  is 
another  race,  another  conception,  another  art. 


>> 


CHAPTER   SIXTEEN 

"^  TERY  different  had  been  the  reception  given  to 
\  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew  when  we  gave  it 
earlier  that  same  summer  in  London.  This  was  the 
first  performance  of  a  Shakespearian  play  given  by  an 
American  Company  in  Europe.  The  Times  said  that 
till  this  Daly  production,  it  seemed  that  this  comedy 
was  "fated  to  rank  as  the  most  despised  of  the  poet's 
productions,"  and  that  hitherto  the  play  had  "received 
scant  justice  from  the  professional  interpreters — so  at 
least  it  would  appear — in  view  of  this  splendid  re- 
vival of  the  comedy,  which,  sumptuously  mounted  and 
acted  with  admirable  spirit  and  point,  keeps  the  house 
throughout  its  five  acts  in  a  state  of  continuous  merri- 
ment." 

The  summer  that  we  were  playing  The  Taming  of 
the  Shrew  in  London,  I  was  going  down  to  Sandown  to 
see  the  Eclipse  Stakes — that  was  the  year  that  Bendigo 
won — and  at  Waterloo  Station  my  companion  bought 
a  copy  of  Punch, 

He  opened  it,  laughed  and  handed  the  paper  to  mc. 

"Look  at  that,"  he  said. 

145 


146         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

It  was  a  cartoon  showing  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kendal 
looking  out  of  a  box  in  the  theatre  and  in  the  box  on 
the  opposite  side  were  the  Bancrofts.  On  the  stage 
were  Ada  Rehan  as  Katherine  and  myself  as  Petruchio. 
We  were  depicted  in  the  clothes  worn  in  the  scene  in 
which  Petruchio  dresses  fantastically.  I  was  supposed 
to  be  saying  to  these  representatives  of  the  English 
stage  who  were  seated  in  the  boxes:  "I  guess  we'll 
show  you  how  to  play  your  gosh-dinged  Shakespeare." 

The  year  that  Ormonde  won  the  Derby,  Daly  hired 
a  four-in-hand  and  we  drove  down  to  Epsom.  Daly 
had  wanted  to  have  a  matinee  that  day,  but  William 
Terriss,  who  was  associated  with  Daly  in  our  first  two 
trips  abroad,  refused  to  have  a  performance  on  the 
ground  that  nobody  would  be  in  town. 

Daly  somewhat  reluctantly  consented  to  go  to  the 
races,  in  which  he  was  not  much  interested,  and  Ter- 
riss accompanied  us.  Following  his  usual  custom  Daly 
arranged  the  seating  on  the  drag  and  reserved  the  box 
seat  with  the  driver  for  himself. 

"You  can't  do  that,"  I  protested. 

"Why  not?"  he  asked. 

"It  just  isn't  done,"  I  told  him;  "a  woman  is  always 
on  the  box  seat  next  to  the  driver." 

With  very  bad  grace  he  yielded  the  seat  he  had 
chosen  for  himself  to  Ada  Rehan. 


^m^ 


t'    <.   r 


Yaukt;'  Sliakspeares  came  to  town 
Oil  /■  ';  •   /Vjo'jrpony; 


Such  a  feather  in  thf  ir  cap ! 
Hope  they  '11  make  their  money. 


CARTOON    FROM    PUNCH 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  147 

We  saw  one  of  the  greatest  Derbys  that  had  been 
run  for  many  years.  Ormonde,  owned  by  the  Duke 
of  Westminster,  was  a  great  horse.  He  was  ridden 
by  Fred  Archer,  the  leading  English  jockey.  Ormonde 
was  later  sold  and  sent  to  the  Argentine,  and  he  was 
eventually  bought  by  my  old  friend,  William  McDon- 
ough,  of  California.  Years  after  his  Epsom  victory  I 
saw  Ormonde  in  the  stud  at  McDonough's  ranch. 

In  London  I  met  some  of  the  American  artists  and 
writers  that  I  had  not  met  in  this  country — Sargent, 
Henry  James  and  Bret  Harte.  The  first  time  that  I 
met  Bret  Harte  was  the  Fourth  of  July,  1888.  He 
had  been  United  States  consul  in  Glasgow  and  was  at 
the  time  I  met  him  living  in  London. 

That  summer  there  was  a  cyclorama  in  London  that 
was  very  popular,  called  Niagara  in  London.  It  was 
the  usual  entertainment  in  the  conventional  round 
building  that  somewhat  resembled  the  outside  of 
Shakespeare's  Theatre,  the  Globe.  The  management, 
being  partly  American  and  Canadian,  gave  a  supper 
in  the  cyclorama  building  on  the  night  of  the  Fourth. 
Bret  Harte,  Edward  Phelps,  who  was  then  our  minis- 
ter to  England,  and  many  prominent  Americans  were' 
there. 

While  we  walked  around  and  looked  at  this  con- 
structed picture  of  Niagara,  which  was  not  so  wonder- 


148         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

ful  to  us  as  to  the  Englishmen  present,  Lewis  and  I 
talked  to  Bret  Harte.  He  was  a  very  handsome  man, 
and  he  impressed  us  very  much,  though  his  manner  was 
quite  casual. 

After  the  two  national  anthems  were  sung,  the  sup- 
per room  opened  and  the  people  flocked  in  and  found 
seats  for  themselves.  Lewis  and  I  were  sitting  next  to 
an  Englishman,  who  was  evidently  very  hungry  and 
very  thirsty.  Mr.  Phelps,  the  ^\merican  minister, 
walked  into  the  room  and  looked  about,  over  the  tables. 
He  wore  side  whiskers  and  to  a  chance  observer  looked 
not  unlike  a  maitre  d'hotel.  The  Englishman,  not 
knowing  who  it  was,  mistook  him  for  one  of  the  waiters 
and  asked  him  to  bring  him  a  bottle  of  Apollinaris. 
He  pointed  to  a  bottle  near  by  that  had  been  opened. 

Phelps  very  goodnaturedly  took  the  bottle  and  put 
it  down  in  front  of  the  Englishman  and  started  to  walk 
away. 

The  Englishman  was  very  irate  because  Phelps  had 
not  filled  the  glass.  He  reprimanded  him  and,  as  he 
did  so,  he  stood  up  and  called  to  the  retreating  figure : 
"What  do  you  mean  by  this*?    And  who  are  you^" 

Phelps  turned  and  answered:  "My  name  is  Phelps.  I 
am  the  American  minister  at  the  court  of  St.  James's." 

The  Englishman  fell  back  in  his  chair  so  violently 
that  he  knocked  the  chair  over  backwards. 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  149 

"Did  you  get  his  back-fall'?"  Lewis  asked  of  me. 

In  theatrical  parlance  a  "back-fall"  is  a  comic  flop 
or  fall  on  the  stage.  It  is  an  old-fashioned,  low-com- 
edy method  of  denoting  terror  or  fright. 


CHAPTER  SEVENTEEN 

THE  most  brilliant  entertainment  given  Tor  us 
during  our  many  stays  in  London  was  the  supper 
which  John  Hare  gave  at  the  Garrick  Club  on  June  9, 
1888.  It  was  a  wonderful  list  of  guests  and  contained 
almost  everyone  prominent  in  the  arts — actors,  authors, 
painters,  managers — Millais,  Henry  James,  Du  Maur- 
ier,  Ambassador  Phelps  and  the  Earls  of  Lathorn,  Lon- 
desborough  and  Cork  and  Orrery  were  all  present. 

For  some  reason,  known  only  to  himself,  Daly  ab- 
sented himself  from  this  supper.  It  was  believed  that 
he  was  armoyed  that  Hare  had  not  submitted  to  him 
the  list  of  those  members  of  the  Daly  Company  who 
were  to  be  asked.  Irving  was  furious  at  Daly,  and  so 
was  William  Winter,  who  was  one  of  Daly's  closest 
friends. 

When  John  Hare  made  a  speech,  I  had  to  respond 

in  place  of  Daly.    I  was  not  very  happy,  and  I  was  a 

little  upset  because  Hare  had  used  a  few  of  the  things 

that  I  was  going  to  say.    I  was  so  disturbed  that  at  one 

portion  of  my  speech  I  halted  like  an  actor  who  forgets 

his  lines.    I  do  not  know  what  happened  to  me  or  what 

150 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  151 

caused  the  sudden  lapse,  but  I  could  not  preserve  the 
continuity  of  the  thing.     I  knew  it  was  very  bad. 

When  I  had  finished  Sir  Arthur  Sullivan,  who  was 
sitting  a  few  seats  away  from  me,  came  over  and  shook 
me  by  the  hand  and  said:    "It  was  fine.    Capital  I" 

Lord  Cork,  who  was  sitting  just  beyond  Sullivan, 
also  said :    "Capital  I    Capital  I" 

I  thought  it  was  very  good  of  them,  but  it  did  not 
deceive  me.  It  took  me  a  long  time  to  recover  from 
my  embarrassment. 

Charles  Wyndham  gave  a  garden  party  one  Sunday. 
That  year  he  had  Pope's  famous  villa  at  Twickenham 
on  the  Thames.  Lewis,  Ada  Rehan,  Mrs.  Gilbert,  Daly 
and  I  went  down.  It  rained  all  day,  and  we  were 
rather  cooped  up  in  the  tents  where  the  refreshments 
were  served. 

While  the  band  was  playing  Wyndham  took  hold  of 
his  sister,  who  was  the  wife  of  Bronson  Howard,  the 
American  author  of  Wyndham's  successful  play 
Brighton  {Saratoga  in  this  country),  and  rushed  her 
out  on  the  fearfully  wet  lawn  and  danced  around  a  few 
times.  He  was  determined  that  there  should  be  danc- 
ing at  his  party.  He  put  up  an  umbrella,  and  it  looked 
so  ridiculous  to  see  him  waltzing  around  on  the  wet 
lawn  one  arm  holding  up  the  umbrella  and  the  other 
arm  around  his  sister. 


152         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

During  the  run  of  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew  we 
were  asked  to  play  for  a  dramatic  fund  benefit  at  the 
Drury  Lane  Theatre.  We  played  the  fourth  act  of 
The  Tajning  of  the  Shrew — the  scene  in  which 
Petruchio  trying  to  frighten  and  impress  Katherine 
with  his  masterfulness,  whacks  his  servants  about  the 
stage  with  his  whip  and  a  "property"  leg  of  mutton. 
His  servants  were  played  by  Lewis  as  Grutnio^  Wil- 
liam Collier,  Hamilton  Revelle  and  Stephen  Murphy, 
who  afterwards  took  the  name  of  Stephen  Grattan 
when  he  went  to  the  Lyceum  Theatre  in  New  York. 
Murphy  had  a  pedantic  fashion  of  speaking,  and  he 
took  himself  and  his  work  very  seriously. 

In  this  fourth-act  scene  the  servants  are  intensely 
surprised  at  Petruchio' s  behavior  toward  them,  as  they 
had  known  him  always  as  a  kindly  master.  When 
Petruchio  and  Katherine  exit,  the  servant  played  by 
Stephen  Murphy  has  to  say:  "Peter,  didst  ever  see 
the  like?"  referring  to  Petruchio's  extraordinary  be- 
havior. 

Murphy  was  much  impressed  with  the  fact  that  he 
was  about  to  utter  something  of  the  immortal  bard  in 
the  famous  Drury  Lane  Theatre  where  Garrick,  Mac- 
ready  and  Kemble  had  played.  At  the  rehearsal  he 
said  to  Collier  in  an  awed  voice:     "Collier,  do  you 


o 


Q 


5? 

C 

a 


o 

a 


22   iz; 


!/3    " 

K     i-c 


Id 


H 
O 

BS 
W 

O    O 

1-5 


o 

O 
H 


O 

a 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  153 

realize  that  I  am  to  have  the  precious  privilege  of 
speaking  a  line  of  Shakespeare  in  this  sacred  fane*?" 

Collier  interrupted  with,  "What's  a  fane*?" 

Murphy,  impatient  at  the  interruption,  replied: 
"Fane"?  A  fane  is  a  convertible  term  for  temple.  It 
is  a  temple." 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Collier,  apparently  entirely  satisfied 
with  the  definition. 

When,  in  the  actual  playing  of  the  scene,  the  cue 
came  for  Murphy's  great  moment  Collier  came  in 
quickly  on  the  cue  and  spoke  the  line:  "Peter,  didst 
ever  see  the  like*?"  before  the  outraged  Murphy  had 
a  chance  to  do  so. 

Collier  sensed  from  Murphy's  expression  of  disap- 
pointment and  anger  that  there  would  be  trouble.  In- 
deed, as  soon  as  the  scene  was  over  Murphy  made  a 
dash  for  Collier.  Collier,  being  more  agile,  avoided 
the  rush  and  was  chased  all  over  the  stage  behind  the 
scenes  by  Murphy. 

I  demanded  to  know  from  these  two  fellows  what 
caused  the  horrible  commotion  while  Ada  Rehan  and 
I  were  playing  the  last  scene.  Murphy  told  me  that 
Collier  had  deliberately  tried  to  belittle  him;  that  he 
had  robbed  him  of  his  great  opportunity  to  read  a  line 
of  Shakespeare  in  Drury  Lane  and  go  down  into  theat- 
rical history  with  the  Keans,  Kembles  and  Garrick. 


CHAPTER  EIGHTEEN 

THE  years  that  we  did  not  go  to  London  the  Daly 
Company  made  a  tour  to  the  Pacific  Coast.  In 
the  lobby  of  the  Baldwin  Hotel  in  San  Francisco  Jim 
Lewis  and  I  one  summer  day  met  Sir  Arthur  Sullivan, 
the  composer.  We  had  met  him  often  in  London. 
When  we  saw  him  this  day  he  had  arrived  from  Aus- 
tralia; in  fact  he  was  just  off  the  boat.  He  greeted  us 
most  effusively,  for  he  had  been  living  for  some  months 
in  a  country  where  he  knew  no  one.  He  introduced  us 
to  the  man  who  was  with  him,  the  captain  of  the 
steamer  that  had  brought  him  to  California. 

Then,  after  a  few  minutes'  conversation,  he  again 
shook  hands  warmly  and  said :  "We  are  going  to  have 
a  drink.    Good-by." 

I  was  amused,  but  Lewis  was  intensely  annoyed  at 
the  casualness  of  Sullivan's  remark.  He  said:  "I 
wouldn't  have  accepted  it,  but  he  might  have  asked  us." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Lewis  never  did  drink  in  the 

daytime.    While  I  was  laughing  at  Lewis'  annoyance, 

we  were  joined  by  that  great  favorite  of  the  road,  Sol 

Smith  Russell.    His  Hosea  Howe  in  Peaceful  Valley 

154 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  155 

and  his  Noah  Vale  in  The  Poor  Relation  were  only  a 
little  less  well  known  than  Jefferson's  Rip. 

Russell  was  one  of  those  long-looking  persons,  and 
he  had  an  extraordinary  manner  of  dressing.  He  al- 
ways wore  a  black  frock  coat  and  a  little  white  string 
tie.  He  looked  much  like  a  minister,  and  he  told  me 
that  when  he  was  purchasing  things  in  shops  he  was 
often  offered  the  clerical  discount. 

When  he  joined  us  that  morning  in  San  Francisco  he 
was  on  his  way  to  the  dentist's.  He  urged  me  to  go 
with  him.  As  I  had  nothing  to  do  I  thought  I  would 
walk  with  him  a  while.  We  soon  reached  the  place 
of  his  appointment,  and  he  persuaded  me  to  go  in  and 
wait  for  him. 

In  the  dentist's  waiting  room  was  an  old  lady  who 
was  apparently  in  great  pain.  She  was  bewailing  her 
condition.  She  looked  at  Russell  and,  thinking  to  get 
some  spiritual  advice,  said  to  him:  "Are  you  a  minis- 
ter?" 

Russell  answered,  paraphrasing  from  Macbeth:  "I 
minister  to  minds  diseased.'* 

"No,"  she  said,  "are  you  a  real  minister?" 

Russell  answered:  "No,  madam,  I  am  only  a  poor 
player." 

She  then  asked:     "A  piano  player?" 

It  was  so  absurd  and  I  laughed  so  loudly  that  the 


156         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

old  woman  was  much  incensed.  She  seemed  to  think 
that  a  dentist's  waiting  room  was  no  place  to  laugh. 
Russell  had  persuaded  me  to  accompany  him  to  sustain 
him  morally,  and  spiritual  advice  was  demanded  from 
him  I 

As  the  Daly  Company  toured  the  various  cities  of 
the  country  we  were  much  entertained.  Sometimes  en- 
tertainment was  thrust  upon  us  when  we  thought  we 
were  in  a  town  where  no  one  knew  us. 

Otis  Skinner  and  I,  on  our  way  from  the  theatre  to 
our  hotel  in  one  of  the  smaller  cities  of  the  Middle 
West,  stepped  into  a  small  vaudeville  theatre  which 
kept  open  till  midnight.  We  wanted  to  stand  up  at 
the  rear  of  the  theatre,  but  we  were  not  allowed  to  do 
so.  We  were  spotted  at  once  and  ushered  by  the  man- 
agement to  seats  in  the  very  front  of  the  theatre. 

As  we  took  our  seats  someone  was  clattering  away 
on  the  stage  with  a  noisy  song  and  clog  dance.  We 
noticed  that  the  door  under  the  stage  was  opened  and 
a  man  stuck  his  head  out  and  handed  something  written 
on  a  paper  to  one  of  the  musicians,  who  in  turn  handed 
it  to  the  leader. 

The  next  act  was  a  singer,  known  in  the  nineties  as 
a  motto  singer.  I  remember  nothing  about  him  except 
that  he  pointed  to  Skinner  and  myself  and  sang  a  song 
about  the  poor  actor  in  distress.    I  do  not  know  this 


— .^-»«.- 


From,  Theatre  Collection,  Harvard  Unircmitif. 


GEORGIE    DREW    BARRYMORE    WITH    ETHEL,    LIONEL,    AND    JACK 

BARRYMORE 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  157 

song,  and  I  do  not  know  whether  it  ever  went  the 
rounds  of  the  popular  theatres.  When  he  reached  the 
end  he  came  and  stood  diijectly  in  front  of  Skinner 
and  myself  and  sang  words  which  ran  something  like 
this: 

Do  all  you  can  for  the  actor  in  distress; 

Engage  him  before  it's  too  late; 
For  many  a  poor  actor  can  give  a  good  show, 

So  give  the  poor  actor  a  date. 

At  the  height  of  the  fame  of  the  Daly  Company — 
and  this  was  after  we  had  produced  many  notable  suc- 
cesses— we  were  booked  as  the  opening  attraction  of 
a  new  theatre  in  Rockford,  Illinois.  The  theatre  was 
a  very  fine  one,  and  the  occasion  an  important  one  lo- 
cally. After  the  first  performance,  which  was  some- 
what delayed  by  speech  making  and  special  ceremonies, 
Jim  Lewis  and  I  were  sitting  in  the  lobby  of  the  hotel. 

A  man  kept  walking  up  and  down  in  front  of  us, 
and  it  seemed  quite  obvious  that  he  wanted  to  talk. 
After  ruiming  his  fingers  through  his  beard  in  the  man- 
ner of  a  stage  rustic,  he  cleared  his  throat  and  stopped 
short  in  front  of  us;    "I  seen  you  act  tonight,"  he  said. 

"I  trust  you  were  edified,"  said  Lewis. 

The  native  laughed,  as  if  appreciating  a  huge  joke. 
*'I  dunno  about  that;  I  thought  it  was  pretty  good. 
You  folks  ought  to  stay  here  some  time.    I  hear  most 


158         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

of  the  reserved  seats  is  bought  up  for  tomorrow  night." 
He  dropped  into  the  arm  chair  next  to  Lewis  and  con- 
tinued: "I  talked  to  the  manager  of  the  theatre  to- 
night, and  we  come  to  the  conclusion  that  yours  is  the 
best  trained  troupe  that  has  ever  been  here  since 
Humpty-Dinky" 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  he  referred  to  the  ever  popu- 
lar pantomime  performance  Humpty-Dumpty^  which 
toured  the  country  for  years. 

Lewis  groaned,  and  I  thought  things.  This  was 
praise  indeed!  The  Daly  Company  was  supposed  to 
be  the  best  in  the  country.  We  had  been  allowed  to 
believe  by  the  press  and  the  public  that  we  were  the 
best  exponents  of  light-comedy  acting.  Our  acting 
was  supposed  to  be  most  finished.  We  had  been  re- 
ceived in  London  as  perhaps  no  foreign  company  ever 
has  been.  We  had  played  in  France  and  Germany. 
We  had  been  made  much  of  by  many  important  people. 
Enthusiasts  had  compared  our  company  with  the 
Comedie  Frangaise. 

I  do  not  believe  that  either  Lewis  or  I  heard  any  of 
the  rest  of  the  conversation  of  our  newly  acquired 
friend. 


CHAPTER  NINETEEN 

DURING  a  lunch  at  Delmonico's  early  in  the 
winter  of  1888  the  talk  shifted  occasionally 
from  the  subject  we  had  met  to  discuss  and  Mark 
Twain  told  a  story  in  his  inimitable  way.  I  do  not 
remember  what  the  story  itself  was  but  while  we  were 
all  laughing,  General  Sherman  said :  *That  story  lost 
nothing  in  the  telling,  Clemens." 

"I  didn't  mean  that  it  should,"  replied  the  teller  of 
the  story. 

Edwin  Booth,  Lawrence  Hutton,  A.  M.  Palmer, 
Harry  Edwards,  Stephen  Olin,  Thomas  Bailey  Aid- 
rich,  Lawrence  Barrett,  Augustin  Daly,  William  Bis- 
pham,  Joseph  F.  Daly,  Samuel  Clemens,  General 
Sherman,  James  Lewis  and  I  were  sitting  round  the 
table. 

The  reason  for  gathering  together  these  men  repre- 
senting the  professions  was  to  discuss  the  founding  of 
The  Players.  The  idea  to  have  a  club  where  the  per- 
sons of  the  several  arts  could  meet  had  been  discussed 
by  Booth,  Barrett,  Hutton  and  others  on  Commodore 

Benedict's  yacht,  The  Oneida. 

159 


i6o         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

After  lunch  a  number  of  us  went  down  to  16  Gram- 
ercy  Park  to  look  over  the  site  which  had  been  chosen 
for  The  Club. 

On  New  Year's  Eve,  1888,  The  Players  was  for- 
mally opened.  It  was  founded  entirely  through  the 
generosity  of  Edwin  Booth.  He  was  the  first  Presi- 
dent and  upon  his  death  in  1893  Joseph  Jefferson  be- 
came the  second.  Upon  the  death  of  the  latter  the 
honor  was  conferred  upon  me,  and  ever  since  I  have 
held  the  office  so  splendidly  filled  by  those  two  great 
men  of  the  profession. 

As  to  the  ideal  and  the  purpose  of  this  splendid  gift 
to  the  members  of  the  acting  profession,  nothing  can 
be  better  said  than  it  is  in  those  words  that  Edwin 
Booth  used  in  his  speech  of  dedication : 

Gentlemen:  Although  our  vocations  are  vari- 
ous, I  greet  you  all  as  brother  Players.  At  this 
supreme  moment  of  my  life,  it  is  my  happy  privi- 
lege to  assume  the  character  of  host,  to  welcome 
you  to  the  house  wherein  I  hope  that  we  for  many 
years,  and  our  legitimate  successors  for  at  least 
a  thousand  generations,  may  assemble  for  friendly 
intercourse  and  intellectual  recreation.  Espe- 
cially for  the  worthy  ones  of  my  profession  am  I 
desirous  that  this  association  shall  be  the  means 
of  bringing  them,  regardless  of  their  theatrical 
rank,  in  communion  with  those  who,  ignorant  of 
their  personal  qualities  hidden  by  the  mask  and 
motley  of  our  calling,  know  them  as  actors  only. 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE         161 

Frequent  intercourse  with  gentlemen  of  other  arts 
and  professions,  who  love  the  stage  and  appreci- 
ate the  value  of  the  drama  as  an  aid  to  intellec- 
tual culture,  must  inspire  the  humblest  player 
with  a  reverence  for  his  vocation  as  one  among 
the  first  of  "fine  arts" — which  too  many  regard 
as  merely  a  means  to  the  gratification  of  vanity 
and  selfishness.    Such  is  the  object  of  this  club. 

For  many  years  I  have  cherished  the  hope  that 
I  might  be  able  to  do  something  for  my  profession 
of  a  more  lasting  good  than  mere  almsgiving,  but 
could  not  determine  what  course  to  pursue.  Our 
several  benevolent  institutions  for  the  relief  of 
poor  and  disabled  actors  (foremost  among  them 
the  noble  Forrest  Home),  great  as  their  good  work 
is,  do  not  afford  the  social  advantages  so  neces- 
sary for  what  is  termed  "the  elevation  of  the 
stage." 

Not  until  after  many  conversations  with  nu- 
merous friends  of  the  theatre  on  this  subject,  and 
while  discussing  it  with  Messrs.  Barrett,  Daly, 
and  Palmer  (a  club  of  this  character  being  sug- 
gested as  the  best  means  to  the  good  end),  did  I 
resolve  to  act,  to  do  my  utmost  in  the  furtherance 
of  the  scheme  proposed.  This  is  the  first  step 
toward  the  accomplishment  of  our  purpose.  To 
our  treasurer,  Mr.  William  Bispham,  we  owe  the 
wise  selection  of  our  house,  to  Mr.  Stanford  White 
its  admirable  reconstruction  and  embellishment, 
while  to  the  poet  Aldrich  we  are  indebted  for  the 
choice  of  our  appropriate  and  comprehensive  title, 
the  world  being  but  a  stage  where  every  man  must 
"play  his  part."  Mine  just  now,  as  the  New  Year 
dawns,  is  a  very  happy  one,  since  it  permits  me  to 


i62         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

present  to  you  by  the  hands  of  our  vice-president, 
Mr.  Daly,  your  title  deeds  to  this  property. 

Having  done  so,  I  am  no  longer  your  host — I 
resign  the  role  with  profound  thanks  for  your 
prompt  and  generous  cooperation  in  a  cause  so 
dear  to  me,  so  worthy  of  all  well-wishers  of  the 
theatre  and  of  the  Player  who  "struts  and  frets 
his  hour  upon  the  stage." 

Let  us  drink  from  this  loving-cup,  bequeathed 
by  William  Warren  of  loved  and  honored  mem- 
ory to  our  no  less  valued  Jefferson,  and  by  him 
presented  to  us — from  this  cup  and  this  souvenir 
of  long  ago,  my  father's  flagon,  let  us  now,  be- 
neath his  portrait,  and  on  the  anniversaries  of  this 
occupation,  drink:  "To  the  Players'  Perpetual 
Prosperity  I" 


CHAPTER  TWENTY 

I  WAS  still  playing  at  Daly's  theatre  when  I  first 
met  Charles  Frohman.  He  then  had  the  Twenty- 
third  Street  Theatre,  now  Proctor's,  and  had  produced 
Bronson  Howard's  famous  drama  of  the  Civil  War, 
Shenandoah,  which  had  so  much  to  do  with  the  found- 
ing of  his  theatrical  fortune. 

In  the  men's  cafe  at  Delmonico's,  then  at  Broadway 
and  Twenty-sixth  Street,  I  often  saw  a  little  round  man 
who  I  thought  was  Alfred  Klein,  the  brother  of  Charles 
Klein,  the  author  of  The  Music  Master  and  The  Lion 
and  the  Mouse.  Alfred  Klein,  was  one  of  three  bro- 
thers coimected  with  the  theatre.  He  played  with 
Gillette  in  The  Professor,  and  some  years  afterwards 
he  was  the  elephant  trainer  with  DeWolf  Hopper  in 
Wang. 

Anson  Pond,  the  writer  of  a  play  called  Her  Atone' 
ment,  protested  to  me  one  day:  "Why,  that's  not 
Klein.  That  is  Charles  Frohman,  the  coming  theatrical 
manager." 

At  that  time  I  was  not  much  interested  in  other  the- 
atrical managers.    Ada  Rehan,  Lewis  and  the  rest  of 

163 


1 


i64         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

us  at  Daly's  felt  that  these  newer  managers  were  in- 
truders. Daly  never  thought  what  happened  outside  of 
his  theatre  was  of  any  importance,  and  this  spirit  of 
his  prejudiced  us. 

One  fine  Sunday  Fritz  Williams  and  I  rode  out  to 
Claremont.  Seated  at  a  table  near  us  was  Frank  San- 
ger and  the  man  I  had  mistaken  for  Alfred  Klein.  I 
had  known  Frank  Sanger  in  Philadelphia.  He  had 
been  one  of  the  players,  though  not  a  conspicuous  one, 
in  the  stock  company  at  the  Chestnut  Street  Theatre. 
He  became  night  clerk  in  the  Hotel  La  Pierre  one  sum- 
mer. Later  he  got  into  theatrical  management  and 
made  a  great  deal  of  money  out  of  Charles  Hoyt's 
play,  A  Bunch  of  Keys.  With  Hayman  he  built  the 
Empire  Theatre  for  Charles  Frohman. 

At  this  meeting  at  Claremont  Sanger  and  Frohman 
joined  us.  Sanger  turned  the  conversation,  in  a  rather 
diplomatic  fashion,  to  the  possibilities  of  my  changing 
managements.  I  do  not  mean  to  imply  that  this  con- 
versation was  exactly  prearranged. 

Sanger  said:  "John  is  wedded  to  Daly  as  a 
manager." 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  I  answered. 

"You're  not  thinking  of  changing,  are  you?"  San- 
ger asked. 

"No,"  I  told  him ;  "but  Fm  not  bound  as  a  serf." 


■J^S^-BVTT 


From  Theatre  Collection,  Harvard  University. 


maude  adams  and  john  drew  in  henry  guy  carleton  s  play, 

"butterflies" 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE         165 

One  Sunday  evening  Henry  Miller  took  me  to  Froh- 
man's  apartment  in  the  Hoffman  House  to  play  cards. 
Miller  and  I  met  Frohman  and  Anson  Pond,  who  was 
a  great  friend  of  his,  in  the  lobby  of  the  hotel.  We 
played  poker  for  a  while,  and  I  felt,  as  subsequent 
events  developed,  that  I  had  been  allowed  to  win  and 
had  not  won  through  my  own  cleverness  or  prowess 
with  the  cards.  I  do  not  know  whether  I  was  right 
about  this,  but  I  do  know  that  Frohman  was  a  very 
good  card  player,  as  was  Pond.  We  had  a  very  elab- 
orate "terrapinish"  supper  and  went  back  to  card 
playing. 

Conversations  with  Sanger,  which  were  usually  pred- 
icated upon  the  supposition  of  what  I  would  do  if  I 
left  Daly,  and  occasional  meetings  with  Frohman  went 
on  for  some  time.  Finally  an  offer  came  through 
Frank  Bennett,  who  was  manager  of  the  old  Arlington 
Hotel  in  Washington. 

Frank  Bermett,  who  was  the  son-in-law  of  my  god- 
mother, Mrs.  D.  P.  Bowers,  had  been  an  actor  for  a 
time  in  the  Daly  company,  but  he  became  discouraged 
and  gave  up  the  stage.  Fortunately  for  him  he  had 
the  keenness  of  perception,  given  to  very  few  people 
who  want  to  act,  to  realize  that  there  was  no  future  for 
him.  On  one  of  our  trips  with  the  Daly  company  to 
Washington  he  met  Roselle,  proprietor  of  the  Arling- 


i66         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

ton  Hotel,  who  offered  him  a  job.  From  this  he  rose 
to  be  manager. 

**Why  don't  you  get  out  of  your  engagement  with 
Daly,  John?"  Bennett  asked  me  on  one  occasion.  I 
suppose  my  manner  seemed  receptive  to  him,  for  he 
went  on:    "Frohman  is  the  coming  man." 

Frohman  apparently  had  calculated  that  I  had  a 
drawing  power,  and  in  this  he  seems  to  have  had  faith, 
for  a  most  generous  offer  was  made  to  me  by  Bennett. 
I  authorized  him  to  make  a  suggestion  or  two  to  Froh- 
man and  the  thing  was  accomplished. 

At  the  time  there  was  still  more  than  a  year  of  my 
contract  with  Daly  to  run.  I  told  Daly  at  once  that 
I  was  leaving  him  at  the  end  of  our  arrangement.  I 
felt  that  I  was  at  liberty  to  go  and  that  there  was  no 
moral  obligation  upon  my  part  to  stay  with  a  manager 
with  whom  I  had  been  for  so  many  seasons.  I  felt 
this  because  Daly  had  before  this  rescinded  the  agree- 
ment that  he  had  with  Mrs.  Gilbert,  Miss  Rehan, 
Lewis  and  myself.  He  had  given  us  a  share  in  the 
profits  of  the  season  apart  from  our  salaries.  It  was 
a  semi-proprietary  arrangement  similar  to  that  enjoyed 
by  the  actors  at  the  Comedie  Frangaise,  that  is,  the 
Societaires  who  have  all  had  certain  years  of  service. 

Daly  wrote  us  that  "in  view  of  certain  contingencies" 
he  had  decided  that  it  was  inexpedient  to  continue  this 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE         167 

arrangement.  He  proposed  that  we  take  increased 
salaries  in  place  of  the  percentage.  A  small  increase 
in  salary  went  into  effect,  but  a  season  or  two  after- 
wards, when  I  asked  Daly  for  more  money,  he  declined 
to  give  it  to  me. 

Frohman  offered  me  a  salary  much  larger  than  Daly 
ever  contemplated  giving  anyone  connected  with  his 
theatre.  Accordingly,  I  signed  my  first  contract  with 
Frohman.  It  was  for  three  years ;  I  never  had  another. 
We  merely  went  on  from  year  to  year.  During  our 
whole  professional  business  associations  there  was  never 
a  difference  of  any  sort.  I  received  a  salary  and  at 
the  end  of  the  season  a  percentage  of  the  year's  receipts. 

Once,  when  I  thought  I  should  have  a  larger  salary, 
I  went  to  Charles  Frohman  and  told  him  so.  "Charles, 
I  spoke  to  you  several  years  ago  about  giving  me  more 
money,  and  you  said  at  that  time  you  couldn't  afford 
to  do  so." 

"Oh,  did  I*?"  he  said.  And  then  he  went  on  to  tell 
me,  making  it  appear  just  as  if  he  had  nothing  to  do 
with  it  and  as  if  I  were  dealing  with  another  firm, 
that  I  should  go  tell  the  treasurer  who  was  in  charge 
of  the  business  office  at  that  time  that  I  was  henceforth 
to  get  so  much  instead  of  what  I  had  been  getting.  He 
made  it  appear  that  it  was  something  that  I  had  ne- 
glected. 


i68         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

This  business  association  I  entered  into  with  a  good 
deal  of  uncertainty  and  some  little  dread.  I  did  not 
know  Frohman,  and  I  had  been  long  with  Daly.  I 
was  accustomed  to  his  management  and  his  way  of 
producing  plays. 

I  never  had  cause  to  regret  my  change  in  manage- 
ment. Charles  Frohman  was  one  of  the  fairest  and 
squarest  men  I  ever  met. 

On  July  30,  1892, 1  appeared  for  the  last  time  under 
the  management  of  Augustin  Daly  at  Stockwell's  Thea- 
tre in  San  Francisco.  The  play  was  a  revival  of  A 
Night  Off,  and  I  played  my  customary  role  of  Jack 
Mulberry. 

On  October  3  of  the  same  year  I  appeared  as  a  star 
under  the  management  of  Charles  Frohman  at  Palmer's 
Theatre,  Broadway  and  Thirtieth  Street.  This  had 
been  Lester  Wallack's  Theatre,  and  after  Palmer's 
management  was  renamed  Wallack's. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-ONE 

MY  early  impression  of  Maude  Adams,  before  it 
was  finally  decided  that  she  was  to  be  my 
leading  woman  in  my  first  play  as  a  star  under  the 
management  of  Charles  Frohman,  was  that  she  looked 
too  frail.  I  had  been  accustomed  to  play  with  Ada 
Rehan,  who  was  so  much  bigger  and  stronger. 
Stronger  she  was,  as  was  evidenced  by  the  blow  on  the 
jaw  that  as  Katherine  she  gave  me  in  The  Taming  of 
the  Shrew.  In  the  scene,  in  the  acting  version,  where 
Petruchio  says : 

Were  it  the  forefoot  of  an  angry  bear, 

I'd  shake  it  off;  but,  as  it's  Kate's,  I  kiss  it, 

Katherine  gives  him  a  sound,  ringing  blow.  There 
was  a  time  when  it  was  not  considered  good  art  actu- 
ally to  hit  a  person  on  the  stage  instead  of  making  as 
if  to  hit;  but  there  was  no  make-believe  about  this 
stage  blow.  It  was  indeed  real ;  in  fact,  it  seems  to  me 
now  as  I  look  back  that  the  blow  that  Katherine  used 
to  give  Fetruchio  might  have  given  the  redoubtable 

Dempsey  a  jolt. 

169 


170         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

Small  wonder  then  that  Maude  Adams  in  her  girlish 
slightness  seemed  to  me  too  fragile  for  a  leading 
woman.  As  a  matter  of  fact  she  was  never  ill  and 
never  away  from  rehearsals  in  the  years  she  played 
with  me. 

It  was  Mrs.  Drew,  my  wife,  who  first  suggested  that 
Maude  Adams  become  my  leading  woman.  Maude 
Adams  had  been  on  the  stage  almost  from  childhood. 
Her  mother  was  leading  woman  in  the  stock  company 
at  the  Salt  Lake  Theatre.  The  family  name  was  Kis- 
kadden.  Maude,  herself,  had  appeared  when  quite 
yoimg  in  Hoyt's  play,  A  Midnight  Bell.  After  that 
she  left  the  stage  to  go  to  school. 

As  Nell,  the  consumptive  factory  girl,  in  an  Ameri- 
can adaptation  of  Ludwig  Fulda's  play.  The  Lost  Para- 
dise, she  had  made  a  hit.  I  saw  her  first,  however,  as 
Evangeline  Bender  in  a  farce  which  William  Gillette 
had  adapted  from  the  French,  called  All  the  Comforts 
of  Home.  In  this  Forbes  Robertson's  brother,  Ian, 
played  an  old,  deaf  fellow.  The  two  things  that  I 
remember  about  the  play  are:  the  delicate  charm  of 
Maude  Adams  and  the  fact  that  all  the  other  characters 
yelled  at  Ian  Robertson. 

When  I  was  in  San  Francisco  Maude  Adams,  who 
was  playing  at  another  theatre,  came  to  the  Baldwin 


Photo,  by  Byron. 

ELSIE    DE    WOLFE    AS    THE    WAITING    MAID,    JOHN    DREW    AS    THE    COUNT,    IN 


ii 


A    MARRIAGE    OF    CONVENIENCE 


» 


From  Theatre  Collection,  Harvard   University. 
ARTHUR  BYRON  AND  JOHN  DREW  IN   "tHE    TYRANNY    OF    TEARS 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE         171 

Hotel  to  meet  me.  This  appointment  was  the  first 
time  that  I  had  seen  her  off  the  stage.  I  saw  at  once 
her  alertness  and  her  intelligence,  and  that  she  had  a 
most  expressive  face. 

The  play  selected  for  my  first  appearance  under  the 
new  management  was  The  Masked  Ball  by  Alexandre 
Bisson  and  Albert  Carre.  This  play  took  its  name  from 
the  celebrated  carnival,  Veglione,  which  is  held  at  Nice 
during  the  winter.  The  adaptation  was  made  by  young 
Clyde  Fitch,  whose  play,  Beau  Brummel^  had  made  so 
great  an  impression  when  played  by  Richard  Mansfield. 
The  cast  was: 

Paul  Blondet  John  Drew 

Joseph  Poulard  Harry  Harwood 

Louis  Martinot  Harold  Russell 

M.  Bergomat  C.  Leslie  Allen 

Casimir  Frank  E.  Lamb 

Suzanne  Blondet  Maude  Adams 

Mme.  Poulard  Virginia  Buchanan 

Mme.  Bergomat  Annie  Adams 

Rose  Lillian  Florence 

When  I  left  Daly  I  assured  him  that,  if  ever  the 
opportunity  arose,  I  should  be  happy  to  make  public 
acknowledgement  of  all  that  I  felt  that  I  owed  him. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  it  was  the  only  decent  thing  to 
do — to  pay  some  tribute  to  the  man  who  had  taken  so 


172         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

much  trouble  for  so  many  years.  Accordingly,  on  the 
first  night  of  The  Masked  Ball,  when  I  was  called  be- 
fore the  curtain,  I  said : 

It  is  trite  and  hackneyed,  perhaps,  to  allude  to 
a  particular  time  as  the  proudest  and  happiest 
moment  in  one's  life,  but  if  ever  phrase  were  apt 
for  an  occasion,  I  feel  that  particular  one  is  be- 
fitting this  moment.  This  splendid  welcome  ac- 
corded to  me  by  you — kind  friends  rather  than 
spectators  or  auditors,  who  have  with  your  plau- 
dits and  consideration  encouraged  me  for  so  many 
years  in  the  past — makes  this,  indeed,  a  proud  and 
happy  moment  for  me. 

But  I  feel  that  all  these  plaudits  and  this  great 
greeting  might  not  have  been  for  me,  had  it  not 
been  for  one  who  taught  me  how  to  merit  and  de- 
serve them,  who  from  the  beginning  of  my  career 
has  watched  and  guided  my  steps,  smoothing  the 
way  to  success  for  me,  and  encouraging  me  in 
moments  of  trial  and  discouragement,  and,  in 
fine,  striving  to  make  me  worthy  of  this  honor 
tonight. 

I  feel,  too,  that  this  poor  and  halting  tribute 
of  the  heart  is  little  to  offer  after  the  years  of 
care  and  trouble  he  has  bestowed  on  me,  but  it  is 
from  the  heart  that  I  wish  to  offer  it.  I  am  glad, 
too,  to  offer  it  before  you — his  friends  as  well  as 
mine.  I  see  that  I  need  not  name  him,  my  friend 
and  preceptor,  Mr.  Augustin  Daly. 

Eugene  Presbrey,  who  was  the  first  husband  of  An- 
nie Russell,  directed  the  production  of  The  Masked 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  173 

Ball.  Frohman  came  to  rehearsals  himself,  and  he  did 
a  good  deal  of  the  directing.  Often  he  made  sugges- 
tions, and  good  ones,  but  he  never  assumed  the  job  of 
general  stage  director  or  producer.  ^ 

The  Masked  Ball  was  a  great  success,  and  we  played 
it  two  seasons.  It  was  a  conventional  farce,  but  it  gave 
me,  in  the  role  of  Paul  Blondet,  a  fairly  good  oppor- 
tunity. Maude  Adams  made  a  decided  impression. 
In  one  scene  in  which  she  simulated  tipsiness  she  was 
particularly  adroit. 

Suzanne  had  been  engaged  to  Louis  Martinot^  a 
friend  of  Baul  Blondefs.  Paul  tells  Louis  not  to 
marry  Suzanne  because  she  drinks.  He  tells  him  this 
because  he  wants  to  marry  the  girl  himself.  He  does 
so.  Later  the  friend  comes  back  from  Japan  and  finds 
the  girl  he  loved  married  to  the  man  who  warned  him. 
Blond et  is  desperate  and  wants  to  get  rid  of  Martinot. 
He  does  not  want  Suzanne  to  see  him.  He  tries  every 
inducement  to  get  him  out  of  the  house,  but  Martinot 
only  sinks  deeper  in  his  chair  and  insists  upon  waiting 
to  see  Mrs.  Blondet. 

*'You  must  see  our  Rubens.  We  have  a  splendid 
collection  of  Rubens,"  Blondet  tells  him,  trying  to  get 
him  out  of  the  room. 

But  Martinot  is  obdurate.    "No,  no !    Rubens  bores 


me. 


174         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

The  actor  who  played  this  part  insisted  upon  saying, 
"No,  no !    Rubens  bore  me." 

I  said,  thinking  it  was  a  slip  of  the  tongue :  "Why 
do  you  say  that?" 

He  said:    "Why  not?' 

Then  I  gathered  he  thought  I  meant  by  Rubens — 
country  jays. 

Finally,  Martinot  does  see  Suzanne. 

"Did  he  say  that  I  got  tipsy?"  she  asks. 

"Yes,  he  told  me  so;  that's  the  reason  I  broke  off 
the  engagement." 

Accordingly,  at  the  end  of  the  second  act,  she  feigns 
tipsiness  in  order  to  shock  the  husband  with  whom  she 
is  really  in  love.  It  was  admirably  done,  deliciously 
done.  There  was  nothing  vulgar  about  the  scene ;  for, 
in  the  first  place,  she  was  not  supposed  to  be  intoxi- 
cated. Maude  Adams  did  the  whole  episode  daintily 
and  with  much  charm.  She  carried  a  red  rose  which 
she  would  alternately  smell  and  wave  about.  This  was 
her  own  idea,  and  it  was  carried  out  very  prettily. 

The  part  of  Suzanne  established  Maude  Adams.  She 
scored  a  greater  success  in  my  company  as  Dorothy  in 
Rosemary^  but  after  her  performance  in  The  Masked 
Ball  there  was  no  doubt  of  her  ability  and  charm. 

Before  the  Empire  Theatre  was  built,  the  Frohman 
offices  were  at  1 127  Broadway.    I  went  there  one  day 


From  Thaitie  Collection,  Harvard  Vnivcrsitti. 

MAUDE    ADAMS    AND    JOHN    DREW    IN    "rOSEMARy' 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE         175 

to  see  Frohman  and  was  told  by  the  office  boy:  "Mr. 
Frohman  is  out,  and  I  don't  know  when  he  will  be 
back." 

"But  I  have  an  engagement  with  him,"  I  protested. 

"You  will  have  to  wait,"  said  the  boy. 

I  waited  in  the  outer  office,  while  Frohman  waited 
for  me  inside. 

Later,  this  same  boy,  whose  name  was  Peter  Daly, 
came  to  me  at  the  suggestion  of  Charles  Frohman  as  a 
dresser.  He  spent  the  day  typewriting  in  the  outer 
room  of  the  Frohman  offices  and  at  night  came  to  the 
theatre  to  dress  me  until  I  got  a  regular  valet. 

I  was  much  surprised,  some  time  after  he  left  me,  to 
learn  that  he  was  in  a  play  and  that  his  name  was 
Arnold  Daly.  Of  course  he  could  not  keep  his  own 
name,  because  Peter  Dailey,  later  one  of  the  popular 
players  at  Weber  and  Fields'  Theatre,  was  then  a  well- 
known  comedian  playing  in  The  Country  Sport  with 
May  Irwin. 

During  the  run  of  The  Masked  Ball  I  lived  at  the 
Marlborough  Hotel,  and  in  the  side  street  Saint-Gau- 
dens  had  a  studio.  I  often  went  over  and  watched 
him  work  on  the  Sherman  statue,  which  is  now  in  the 
plaza  at  Fifty-ninth  Street,  New  York.  The  model 
for  the  horse  was  the  race  horse  Ontario. 

When  we  played  The  Masked  Ball  in  Washington, 


176         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

the  house  was  sold  out  in  advance  for  the  first  night  at 
the  National  Theatre,  At  the  last  minute  the  Presi- 
dent and  Mrs.  Cleveland  decided  to  attend  the  per- 
formance and  Mrs.  Rapley,  the  wife  of  the  manager 
of  the  theatre,  gave  up  the  manager's  box.  Grover 
Cleveland  was  one  of  the  early  members  of  The  Play- 
ers and  I  often  saw  him  there  in  the  nineties. 

During  this  same  Washington  engagement  I  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  Frederick  Febvre,  doyen  of  the 
Comedie  Francaise: 

Thanks  to  you  and  your  excellent  artists.  We 
passed  a  charming  evening  yesterday  at  The  Na- 
tional Theatre.  The  piece  is  extremely  light,  but 
the  details  are  very  amusing.  There  is  team  play 
and  accord  in  your  company,  and  everyone  plays 
for  the  whole  and  not  for  himself. 

My  sincere  compliments  to  the  stage  director. 
The  scene  of  the  flowers  in  the  second  act,  the 
scene  of  the  four  young  people,  is  graceful  and 
ingenious.    It  is  exquisite. 

As  for  you,  dear  Mr.  Drew,  I  cannot  tell  you 
how  much  pleasure  was  given  me  by  your  skillful 
playing — correct,  amusing  without  ever  becom- 
ing exaggerated,  in  fact,  quite  Parisian.  Re- 
ceive all  our  thanks  for  your  courtesy,  my  most 
sincere  felicitations  and  a  cordial  handshake. 

Febvre,  who  was  on  a  sort  of  vacation  or  leave  from 
the  Comedie  Frangaise,  was  giving  very  charming  little 
sketches  or  colloquies,  with  his  wife  at  private  enter- 
tainments.   I  saw  them  two  afternoons  in  Washington. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-TWO 

THE  second  play  in  which  I  appeared  as  a  star 
was  Butterflies  by  Henry  Guy  Carleton,  who 
was  the  first  editor  of  Life.  In  this  I  played  Frederick 
Ossian,  a  heedless  young  man  who  is  much  in  love  and 
much  in  debt.  Finally  Frederick  tries  the  expedient 
of  going  to  work,  and  his  love  is  rewarded.  In  this 
play,  which  was  also  produced  at  Palmer's  Theatre, 
Maude  Adams  as  Miriam  made  another  hit  and  Olive 
May  as  Suzanne-Elise  scored  greatly.  Suzanne  was  a 
broad-comedy  part,  one  of  the  first  of  the  modern 
slangy  young  girls  and  a  contrast  to  the  heroine,  the 
delicate  Miriam.  Carleton's  play  was  as  great  a  suc- 
cess as  The  Masked  Ball.,  and  we  played  it  for  many 
months. 

The  cast  was: 

Frederick  Ossian  John  Drew 

Andrew  Strong  Lewis  Baker 

Hiram  Green  Harry  Harwood 

Barrington  Arthur  Byron 

Nathaniel  Bilser  Leslie  Allen 

Coddle  Frank  E.  Lamb 

177 


178         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

Mrs.  Ossian  Annie  Adams 

Suzanne-Elise  Olive  May 
Mrs.  Beverly 

Stuart-Dodge  Kate  Meek 

Miriam  Maude  Adams 


The  year  after  the  World's  Fair  we  were  going  to 
California  with  Butterflies.  When  we  got  near  Chi- 
cago there  was  a  great  glare  in  the  sky  and  we  were 
told  that  the  World's  Fair  buildings  were  burning. 

At  Hammond,  which  is  some  miles  out  of  Chicago, 
we  were  compelled  to  get  out  of  our  Pullman,  as  there 
was  a  strike  at  the  Pullman  works.  There  was  a  sym- 
pathetic strike  of  the  people  working  on  the  various 
roads,  and  Pullman  cars  were  not  allowed  to  go  into 
Chicago. 

We  rode  into  Chicago  by  trolley.  We  were  going 
straight  to  the  Coast  and  not  playing  Chicago  this  trip. 
After  we  got  off  the  trolley  we  had  to  take  an  elevated 
to  get  us  to  a  place  where  we  could  get  carriages  to  get 
across  to  the  Northwestern  station. 

In  getting  on  the  elevated  Maude  Adams  and  the 
women  of  the  company  were  nearly  crushed  to  death. 
Great  throngs  of  people  were  going  to  the  fire  and  tak- 
ing the  trains  right  back  again.  The  congestion  was 
shocking.    We  were  so  much  delayed  that  we  missed 


Fraiii    'I'luatre  Collection,  Harvard   Univcrsitii. 

MAUDE   ADAMS,   ARTHUR  BYRON,  AND   JOHN   DREW   IN   "rOSEMARy' 


i 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  179 

our  train  and  had  to  stay  over  a  whole  day  until  the 
same  time  next  night. 

The  strikers  were  beginning  to  riot,  and  troops  were 
brought  down  from  Fort  Sheridan  and  camped  out  on 
the  Lake  Front.  I  knew  some  of  the  officers  and  spent 
most  of  the  day  at  this  temporary  camp.  On  our  way 
West  we  were  held  up  at  different  places  by  the  strik- 
ing people  and  those  who  sympathized  with  them,  but 
they  did  not  take  our  Pullman  car  off.  We  had  to 
stop  at  night  wherever  we  were,  usually  at  some  sta- 
tion we  were  passing  through.  It  was  very  hot  and  we 
arrived  at  San  Francisco  two  days  late. 

A  familiar  figure  round  the  New  York  theatres  in 
those  days  of  the  middle  nineties  was  Charles  Hoyt, 
the  writer  of  many  successful  farces.  The  titles  of 
these  invariably  began  with  the  article  "A" — A  Tern' 
perance  Town,  A  Midnight  Bell,  A  Contented  Woman, 
A  Stranger  in  New  York.  Hoyt  was  a  most  amusing 
person.  He  came  from  New  Hampshire,  and  he  had 
an  uncompromising  Yankee  accent.  When  he  died 
he  gave  his  place  in  New  Hampshire  to  the  Lambs 
Club  in  perpetuity,  so  that  actors  who  had  no  place 
else  to  go  might  go  there  to  stay. 

One  of  the  often-told  stories  about  him  was  that  on 
the  first  night  that  Goodwin  was  going  to  play  Clyde 


i8o         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

Fitch's  Nathan  Hale,  Hoyt  had  tickets  for  it,  and  there 
landed  in  on  him  some  friend  from  New  Hampshire. 
He  had  to  entertain  the  man  in  some  fashion,  and  he 
said  he  had  two  tickets  for  the  theatre. 

The  other  man  said :    "What  is  it*?" 

Hoyt  told  him:  "It  is  the  opening  of  a  new  play, 
Nathan  Hale,  with  Nat  Goodwin." 

The  New  Hampshire  friend  said :  "I  don't  want  to 
see  Goodwin.     I  don't  like  him." 

"You  don't'?"  Hoyt  asked. 

"No,  I  don't.  I  don't  like  him.  I  don't  like  him  as 
a  man;  I  don't  like  him  as  an  actor.    I  don't  like  him." 

"But,"  Hoyt  said,  "you  will  like  him  in  this  play." 

The  other  fellow  said:    "I  won't  like  him." 

Hoyt  said :  "Yes,  you  will ;  they  hang  him  in  the 
last  act." 

Nat  Goodwin  whose  personality  was  perhaps  not 
genial  to  everyone  was  one  of  the  finest  of  American 
comedians.  He  was  a  great  mimic  and  his  imitations 
of  Jefferson  and  J.  H.  Stoddart  were  most  extraordin- 
ary.   He  even  looked  like  Jefferson  and  Stoddart. 

Goodwin  got  his  start  as  the  hind  legs  of  the  heifer 
in  the  famous  production  of  Evangeline  in  Boston, 
where  his  father  had  been  a  gambler.  Some  years 
afterwards  Nat  came  back  to  Boston — he  had  made 
considerable  of  an  impression  as  an  actor  and  an  imi- 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  181 

tator  in  the  meantime — and  a  dinner  was  given  him  by 
some  club. 

In  reply  to  a  toast  he  said  he  was  so  glad  to  receive 
this  kindness  from  the  citizens  of  the  town  "where  he 
had  dwelt  and  his  father  had  dealt  so  long." 

It  was  Nat's  idea  of  humor  without  any  restriction; 
he  could  not  help  saying  that,  and  he  would  not  conceal 
the  fact  that  his  father  had  been  a  gambler. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-THREE 

THE  Empire  Theatre  which  was  so  closely  asso- 
ciated with  the  career  of  Charles  Frohman  and 
so  important  in  my  own  career,  as  for  so  many  years 
my  season  began  there  either  on  Labor  Day  or  very 
close  to  that  time,  had  been  opened  in  January  of 
1893. 

The  opening  play  was  The  Girl  I  Left  Behind  Me 
by  Franklin  Fyles  and  David  Belasco.  This  was  just 
another  version  of  Boucicault's  play,  Jessie  Brown,  or 
The  Relief  of  Lucknow,  with  something  of  the  good 
old  classic,  Virginius.  The  performance  was  given  by 
the  Empire  Theatre  stock  company,  and  in  the  first 
cast  were  W.  H.  Thompson,  William  Morris,  Orrin 
Johnson,  Cyril  Scott,  Theodore  Roberts,  Sydney  Arm- 
strong, Odette  Tyler  and  Katharine  Florence. 

After  my  own  performance  in  The  Masked  Ball  at 
the  Standard  Theatre  at  Thirty-third  Street  and  Broad- 
way, where  we  had  moved  when  our  time  was  up  at 
Palmer's,  I  went  up  to  the  Empire  to  see  the  last  few 
minutes  of  Charles  Frohman's  new  production,  The 

Girl  I  Left  Behind  Me^  in  the  new  theatre. 

182 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  183 

About  two  years  after  the  opening  I  played  at  the 
Empire  for  the  first  time  in  Henry  Arthur  Jones'  play, 
The  Bauble  Shop.  The  argument  in  this,  and  it  seems 
quite  unanswerable,  was  that  the  private  immoralities 
of  a  statesman's  life  may  be  used  by  his  enemies  to 
defeat  and  humiliate  him  in  public  life.  The  play  was 
more  successful  in  New  York  than  London. 

I  was  Viscount  Clzvebrooke^  the  leader  of  the  party 
in  power,  a  cynical,  brilliant  statesman  of  forty-odd 
years,  who  indiscreetly  falls  in  love  with  the  daughter 
of  a  tippling  toy-maker.  J.  E.  Dodson  played  the  toy- 
maker. 

In  all  these  early  productions  Frank  E.  Lamb  was 
my  stage  manager.  He  had  appeared  with  W.  J. 
Florence  in  The  Mighty  Dollar.  He  was  a  son  of 
Ed  Lamb,  who  played  for  a  long  time  in  a  stock  com- 
pany in  Brooklyn,  run  by  Mrs.  F.  B.  Conway,  who  was 
the  sister  of  Mrs.  D.  P.  Bowers,  my  god-mother.  In 
some  of  the  early  Daly  plays  Ed  Lamb  had  played  the 
low-comedy  roles  on  tour — the  parts  which  James 
Lewis  played  in  the  original  company. 

Between  The  Bauble  Shop  and  Rosemary^  Maude 
Adams  and  I  appeared  in  a  number  of  plays..  There 
was  That  Imprudent  Young  Couple^  which  had  been 
tried  out  at  the  end  of  the  season  before.  In  this  Henry 
Guy  Carleton  tried  to  repeat  the  gossamer  success  of 


i84         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

Butterflies,  but  failed.    Then  came  Christopher  Jr.,  a 

bright  but  not  altogether  logical  play  by  Madeline 

Lucette  Ryley  in  which  the  players  were : 

Christopher  Colt,  Jr.  John  Drew 
Christopher  Colt,  Sr.  Harry  Harwood 

Bert  Bellaby  Lewis  Baker 

Hedway  C.  Leslie  Allen 

Simpson  Arthur  Byron 

Glibb  Herbert  Ayling 

Job  Joseph  Humphreys 

Whimper  Frank  Lamb 

Mrs.  Glibb  '  Elsie  De  Wolfe 

Mrs.  Colt  Anna  Belmont 

Dora  Maude  Adams 

We  did  an  English  version  of  UAmi  des  Femmes  by 
Dumas  Fils.  The  adaptation  was  called  The  Squire 
of  Dames  and  was  made  by  R.  C.  Carton,  the  author  of 
Lord  and  Lady  Algy,  Lady  HuntivortK s  Experiment 
and  many  other  successful  plays. 


Photo,  hy  Byron, 

MAUDE    ADAMS    AND    JOHN    DREW    IN    MADELINE    LUCETTE    RYLEy's    COMEDY 

"CHRISTOPHER,    JR." 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FOUR 

THE  summer  I  was  rehearsing  Rosernary  we  were 
all  living  at  Westhampton,  Long  Island — the 
James  Lewises,  my  wife,  mother  and  daughter,  the 
three  Barrymore  children,  and  Henry  Miller  and  his 
family. 

One  day,  after  a  rehearsal  of  Rosemary^  I  was  In  a 
court  of  the  Racquet  Club  when  I  was  told  that  I  was 
wanted  on  the  telephone.  I  asked  that  the  message  be 
taken,  but  the  servant  came  back  to  tell  me  that  the 
person  calling  would  not  give  the  message.  I  put  on 
a  bathrobe  and  went  to  the  telephone. 

It  was  Henry  Miller  who  was  calling  from  West- 
hampton. He  told  me  that  James  Lewis  had  had 
some  trouble  with  his  heart. 

I  asked:    "Why  don't  you  get  a  doctor?" 

He  answered,  trying  to  break  it  to  me  gently: 
"There  is  no  need  for  a  doctor." 

I  didn't  quite  understand  him.  "What  do  you 
mean?" 

He  said:     "There's  nothing  the  matter  with  his 

heart  now." 

I8S 


i86         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

James  Lewis  had  been  my  friend  for  twenty-odd 
years,  ever  since  those  old  days  at  the  Fifth  Avenue 
Theatre  when  I  first  came  to  New  York  to  play  under 
Daly's  management. 

Much  saddened  I  went  on  with  the  rehearsals  of 
Rosemary.  This  play  by  Louis  N.  Palker  and  Murray 
Carson  was  one  of  the  greatest  successes  I  had.  Only 
a  few  years  ago  I  revived  the  play,  and  it  was  successful 
then. 

In  the  first  production  Maude  Adams  made  a  tre- 
mendous hit  as  Dorothy.  This  role,  which  was  the  last 
she  played  with  me,  was  the  culminating  thing  in  her 
early  career,  and  it  led  to  her  being  starred.  The  next 
season  Frohman  produced  The  Little  Minister^  with 
Maude  Adams  as  Lady  Babbie. 

f  Charles  Frohman  probably  thought  that  it  was  a 
great  waste  to  leave  in  my  company  as  leading  woman 
an  actress  who  had  made  so  great  a  hit  on  her  own 
account.  Such  delicate,  almost  spiritual,  charm  could 
be  turned  to  great  advantage  in  the  proper  plays. 

The  play  Rosemary  is  not  an  extraordinary  piece, 
but  it  does  contain  a  great  deal  of  proper  sentiment, 
feeling  and  sympathy.  It  is  gay  and  pretty,  but  not 
without  depth. 

Sir  Jasper  Thorndyke  lives  in  his  country  place  with 
only  an  old  friend  for  a  companion.  A  chaise  contain- 


EMPIRE   THEATRE 


CHAKLBS    FROHMAN,    RICH   «    HARRIS, 
CHARLtS    FROHMAN.  Ma«ac(K. 

WEEK  COMMENCING   MONDAY.  SEPTEMBER  I  4.  Vsger 

Evrul»:>  ■!  8.2U.  .iladnre  iwtvrdar  •■If. 

\lrdnc«(tay  iff  atlncc*  fur  (he  Season  will  l>«  rekiiiiird  lioplembar  SI. 

FIFTH   SEASON  OF  THIS  THEATRE. 
AND  FIFTH  SEASON  OF 

MR.  JOHN    DREW, 

Vadrr  the  mAniwtment  or  CHABI.ES  PHOMMAIt, 

PraMoilag,   for  the  fini  time  la  this  countrjr,  a  play,  in  (our  *cu,  f^lilc^ 

ROSEMARY. 

**T^t**  for  renembraace.** 

By  LOUIS  N.  PARKER  and  MURRAY  CARSON. 

SIR  JASPER  THORNDYKE JOHN  DREW 

PROFESSOR  JOGRAM  DANIEL  HARKINS 

CAPTAIN  CRUICKSHANK.  R.N  HARRY    HARWOOD 

WILLIAM  WESTWOOD ARTHUR  BYROM 

GEORGE  MINIFIE JOSEPH  HUMPHREYS 

ABRAHAM FRANK  LAMB 

MRS.  CRUICKSHANK.  Mrs.  ANNIE  ADAMS 

MRS.  MINIFIE Mr».  KING 

PRISCILLA ETHEL  BARRYMORE 

DOROTHV  CRUICKSHANK.... ...MAUDE  ADAMS 

ACT  I.-HIGH-ROAD.     EXTERIOR  OF  SIR  JASPER  THORNDYKES  PARK. 

Sir  Jasper  makes  a  mistalce. 

ACT  II.— DINING-ROOM  AT  INGLE  HALL 

Sir  Jasper  makes  ameDds. 

ACT  III.-UPPER  ROOM  IN  MRS.  MINIFIES  COFFEEHOUSE.  IN  LONDON. 

Sir  Jasper  forgets. 

ACT  IV.— SAME  ROOM  AS  ACT  III  ,  BUT  FIFTY  YEARS  HAVE  ELAPSBD. 

Sir  Jasper  remembers. 

Costumes  by  Dauan.  Gowns  by  Helen  Windsok. 

Scenery  by  E.  G.  UdlTT. 

Iflddeoul  Mosic  by  W.  W.  FtJisr. 

St>Kc  direction  o(  Joskph  Hdhphuevs. 

BilPIKK  TMEATBS   ORCHESTRA. 

^  WM    PURST,  Musiou.  Dl«KTD«.  ,^ ^ 

Ownure— "FtofaltCaTc" •It«d«i»t»« 

Paraplme-- HoK  Fair  Art  Tboo': „ _ ~ Rt»»»d»» 

-AllKim  Lai" W««n« 

Mcaael--L-Arlesleiine" „ "'•" 

Waht--  La  Pitlnwr.- ■.  VtUamlm 

Ccv«t>-<' L'lafoiie ' ArfW 

From  Theatre  Collection,  Harvard   University. 

DOROTHY  WAS  THE  LAST  PART  MAUDE  ADAMS  PLAYED  AS  LEADING 
WOMAN    WITH    JOHN    DREW 

187 


i88         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

ing  a  runaway  couple  breaks  down  directly  outside  of 
the  place  of  Sir  Jasper,  and  he  takes  the  youthful 
lovers  into  his  house.  He  falls  in  love  with  the  girl, 
Dorothy.  Professor  Jogram,  his  friend,  tries  to  show 
him  the  folly  of  his  falling  in  love  with  someone  so 
much  younger  than  himself.  Jasper  sees  her  happily 
married  to  the  young  lover,  Ensign  Westford,  and  he 
returns  to  his  bachelor  ways.  He  outlives  them  both 
and  at  the  Diamond  Jubilee  he  finds  in  the  very  house 
where  he  had  taken  Dorothy  to  see  the  Coronation,  a 
souvenir  of  his  romance.  In  this  last  act,  which  is 
really  a  monologue,  Sir  Jasper^  who  is  on  the  verge  of 
senility,  reminisces  at  length. 

My  niece,  Ethel  Barrymore,  was  cast  for  the  rustic 
maid,  Priscilla,  in  Rosemary.  She  had  a  dress  and 
shoes  which  might  have  made  another  young  girl  seem 
grotesque.  However,  in  spite  of  this  most  unbecoming 
attire,  her  beauty  made  a  great  impression.  Priscilla, 
the  maid,  was  really  her  first  appearance  in  New  York, 
though  she  had  substituted  in  my  company  in  The 
Bauble  Shop.  One  night  when  Elsie  De  Wolfe  was  ill, 
Ethel  Barrymore  appeared  as  Kate  Fennell,  though  she 
was  not  announced  on  the  program. 

When  Rosemary  had  run  a  hundred  nights,  a  silver 
cup  was  given  as  a  souvenir;  this  custom  has  long  since 
been  done  away  with.    The  cup  bore  the  name  of  the 


From   Theatre  Collection,  Harvard   University. 

MRS.   JOHN   DREW^  SENIOR,  AS  MRS,   MALAPROP   IN   "tHE   RIVALs' 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE         189 

play,  the  occasion  and  the  quotation:  "That's  for  re- 
membrance." I  never  thought  of  these  cups  again  until 
a  few  years  ago,  when  I  was  playing  the  revival  of 
Rosemary  in  San  Francisco.  The  property  man  of  the 
Columbia  Theatre  told  me  that  there  was  a  woman 
who  had  one  of  these  cups  which  she  found  under  some 
debris  near  the  site  of  the  Baldwin  Hotel  just  after 
the  fire.  I  told  the  property  man  that  I  would  like  to 
have  the  cup,  if  the  owner  would  part  with  it.  He 
secured  it  for  me.  It  looks  more  like  pewter  than  silver 
today,  and  there  is  a  hole  punched  through  the  bottom 
of  it. 

In  the  late  nineties  I  saw  my  mother  act  for  the  last 
time,  in  Chicago.  This  was  in  an  all-star  cast  of  The 
Rivals.  She  played  her  familiar  character  of  Mrs. 
Malaprop.  William  H.  Crane  was  Sir  Anthony; 
Robert  Taber,  Captain  Absolute;  Joseph  Jefferson, 
Bob  Acres;  Nat  Goodwin,  Sir  Lucius;  Joseph  Holland, 
Faukland;  Edward  Holland,  Fag;  Francis  Wilson, 
David;  Julia  Marlowe,  Lydia  Languish;  and  Fanny 
Rice,  Lucy.  This  cast  made  a  celebrated  and  quick 
tour  through  the  important  Eastern  cities,  playing  in 
about  twenty-seven  different  towns  in  less  than  a 
month. 

I  was  playing  Rosemary  in  another  theatre  in  Chi- 
cago and  on  Sunday  night  between  the  Chicago  and 


igo         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

Milwaukee  engagements  of  The  Rivals  I  gave  a  dinner 
for  the  cast  at  The  Annex.  Ethel  Barrymore,  who  was 
in  my  company  at  the  time,  was  present  at  the  dinner. 
Jefferson  and  my  mother,  who  had  seen  so  much  of  the 
early  days  of  the  American  theatre,  told  a  great  many 
stories  of  the  old  days. 

The  following  year  I  was  playing  in  Salt  Lake  City 
in  the  road  tour  of  Rosemary,  when  I  received  word 
that  my  mother  had  died  at  Larchmont. 

At  the  time,  Ethel  Barrymore  was  playing  with 
Henry  Irving  in  London.  They  were  rehearsing  a  new 
play.  She  returned  to  the  afternoon  rehearsal  late,  and 
she  told  Irving  that  she  had  been  to  send  a  cable;  her 
grandmother  was  dead. 

Irving  excused  her  from  rehearsal.  "Mrs.  John 
Drew,"  he  said,  "was  the  finest  actress  in  her  line  that 
I  have  ever  seen." 

After  the  road  tour  of  Rosemary,  Isabel  Irving 
played  Dorothy  part  of  the  time.  I  appeared  at  the 
Empire  Theatre  in  A  Marriage  of  Convenience, 
adapted  by  Sydney  Grundy  from  Un  Mariage  sous 
Louis  XV.  I  played  the  part  of  the  count  who  falls  in 
love  with  his  young  wife  less  than  three  days  after  the 
wedding.  Isabel  Irving  made  her  first  appearance  as 
my  leading  lady  in  New  York  as  the  young  countess. 
Of  course,  I  had  played  with  her  often  before  at  Daly*s, 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  191 

and  she  had  played  the  leading  part  opposite  me  in 
The  Cabinet  Minister^  when  Ada  Rehan  refused  to 
play  it.  Elsie  DeWolfe  played  the  waiting  maid  in 
A  Marriage  of  Convenience. 

When  the  Spanish-American  War  broke  out,  I  very 
much  wanted  to  go,  and  I  applied  in  person  to  Theo- 
dore Roosevelt,  who  was  then  organizing  a  regiment 
of  cavalry.  I  had  known  him  when  he  was  police  com- 
missioner in  New  York.  I  met  him  at  lunch  one  day 
at  Delmonico's  with  Richard  Harding  Davis;  when  I 
joined  them  they  were  having  a  heated  but  friendly 
argument  about  something  or  other.  I  don't  remember 
what  it  was  about,  but  they  were  both  much  excited. 

The  day  I  saw  Roosevelt  at  the  war  department  in 
Washington  he  told  me  that  both  Henry  Cabot  Lodge 
and  I  were  too  old  to  think  of  going  to  war,  that  we 
knew  nothing  of  warfare  and  that  I  had  a  wife  and 
child  to  support.  I  had  not  the  moral  courage  to  point 
out  to  him  that  he  had  four  or  five  children. 

Then  came  One  Summer's  Day  by  Henry  V. 
Esmond,  which  was  not  a  great  success  and  was  fol- 
lowed by  one  of  my  biggest  successes,  Henry  Arthur 
Jones'  play,  The  Liars.  In  this  sparkling  comedy  I 
played  Sir  Christopher  Deering^  the  friend  of  every- 
body and  the  preserver  of  family  honor. 

In  the  last  act  Sir  Christopher^  who  has  been  devot- 


192         MY  YEAFIS  ON  THE  STAGE 

ing  his  time  and  ingenuity  for  four  days  and  four  acts 
to  the  seemingly  futile  attempt  to  prevent  the  elope- 
ment of  his  closest  friend  with  the  silly  young  wife  of 
a  common  acquaintance,  confronts  them  in  his  apart- 
ment. The  hour  is  late,  and  Sir  Christopher  is  getting 
ready  to  start  for  Africa  to  rejoin  his  regiment,  the  next 
day.  Moreover,  he  has  just  asked  a  charming  young 
woman  to  be  his  wife.  He  has  little  time  to  spare,  but 
in  a  long  speech  which  is  very  effective  he  sets  facts 
before  these  two,  the  heedless  man  and  the  vain  woman, 
and  convinces  them  of  their  folly. 

On  the  first  night  of  The  Liars  the  curtain  failed  to 
come  down  after  the  first  act.  The  stage  manager  said 
that  he  had  given  both  the  warning  bell,  which  means 
to  get  ready,  and  the  second  bell,  which  is  the  signal 
to  ring  down.  The  flyman  in  charge  of  the  curtain 
said  he  heard  only  the  one  signal,  so  did  not  ring  down. 
This  spoiled  the  first  act. 

In  the  second  act  a  hand  organ  is  supposed  to  be 
played  outside,  so  that  the  heroine  can  get  rid  of  the 
young  man  by  sending  him  out  to  give  some  money  to 
the  monkey.  When  the  cue  came  there  was  no  music 
from  the  hand  organ.  The  property  man,  wishing  to 
prevent  the  possibility  of  any  tampering  with  the  hand 
organ,  had  removed  the  handle,  and  then  in  his  first- 


Photo,  hy  Bijron. 


john  drew  and  frank  lamb  in  henry  arthur  jones'  comedy, 

"the  liars" 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  193 

night  excitement  he  forgot  to  come  back  to  turn  the 
handle. 

Isabel  Irving,  who  was  playing  Lady  Jessica^  was 
at  a  loss  for  a  few  seconds  but  quickly  sent  Arthur 
Byron,  the  young  man,  for  a  glass  of  water.  Notwith- 
standing these  two  accidents,  the  play  was  a  great  suc- 
cess that  first  night  and  for  months  to  come. 

The  cast  was : 

Christopher  Deering  John  Drew 

Edward  Falkner  Arthur  Byron 

Gilbert  Nepean  D.  H.  Harkins 

George  Nepean  Orrin  Johnson 

Freddie  Tatton  Lewis  Baker 

Archibald  Coke  Harry  Harwood 

Mrs.  Crespin  Marie  Derickson 

Beatrice  Ebernoe  Blanche  Burton 

Dolly  Cooke  Elizabeth  Tyree 

Ferris  Clara  Hunter 

Lady  Rosamond  Tatton  Annie  Irish 

Lady  Jessica  Nepean  Isabel  Irving 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FIVE 

AFTER  I  left  the  Daly  company  I  saw  my  old 
manager  now  and  again.  In  the  middle  nineties 
his  former  program  of  light  comedies  and  revivals  of 
the  old  comedies  had  become  less  popular,  and  he  was 
forced  to  make  concessions  to  the  popular  taste.  One 
of  his  last  successes  was  an  English  melodrama,  The 
Great  Ruby. 

The  last  time  that  I  saw  Augustin  Daly  was  at  the 
Continental  Hotel  in  Paris.  Ada  Rehan  was  stopping 
with  the  Dalys.  My  card  was  sent  up  and,  in  the  very 
casual  manner  of  French  hotels,  was  left  at  the  Daly 
apartment.  Daly  came  down;  he  was  very  cordial  and 
nice.  I  had  just  come  from  Lake  Como,  and  I  told 
Daly  that  I  had  been  to  Cadenabbia,  which  is  supposed 
to  be  the  place  which  Claude  Melnotte  in  TUe  Lady 
of  Lyons  describes  to  Pauline  in  the  speech  that  begins : 

"Nay,  dearest,  nay,  if  thou  wouldst  have  me  paint  the 
home." 

"I  suppose  you  felt  like  playing  the  character?" 

asked  Daly. 

"I'm  afraid,  Governor,  that  that's  about  the  only 

194 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  195 

place  where  I'd  ever  be  allowed  to  play  Claude  Mel- 
notte." 

A  year  or  so  later  I  was  in  Dresden,  waiting  for  my 
daughter's  school  to  close  before  the  summer  vacation, 
and  we  got  the  news  that  Augustin  Daly  had  died  in 
Paris. 

When  the  Daly  company  disbanded  Mrs.  Gilbert 
came  under  the  management  of  Charles  Frohman  and 
appeared  with  Annie  Russell  in  Jerome  K.  Jerome's 
Miss  Hobbs  and  Captain  Marshall's  play,  The  Royal 
Family.  Then  Charles  Frohman  decided  to  star  her, 
and  Clyde  Fitch  was  commissioned  to  write  a  play  for 
her  called  Granny. 

This  was  produced  with  Marie  Doro  in  the  support- 
ing cast  at  the  Lyceum  Theatre.  At  the  end  of  the 
play  Mrs.  Gilbert  recited  an  epilogue  which  referred 
to  the  old  Daly  days  and  to  Ada  Rehan,  James  Lewis 
and  myself.  This  might  have  been  pleasant  and  proper 
on  the  first  night,  but  it  seemed  rather  strange  to  con- 
tinue it  through  the  run  of  the  piece. 

As  the  midweek  matinee  at  the  Lyceum  did  not  con- 
flict with  my  own,  I  was  able  to  see  Granny^  and  after 
the  performance  I  saw  Mrs.  Gilbert  in  her  dressing 
room.  Nearly  thirty  years  before  we  had  played  to- 
gether for  the  first  time  at  the  Fifth  Avenue  Theatre. 

At  a  supper  party  Augustin  Daly  gave  one  year  for 


196         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

Henry  Irving  and  Ellen  Terry  at  Delmonico's  I  kissed 
Mrs.  Gilbert's  hand  as  I  entered.  She  was  not  in  the 
bill  we  were  then  playing  at  the  theatre,  and  I  had 
not  seen  her  for  some  time. 

Irving,  probably  thinking  that  it  was  rather  a  formal 
greeting  for  people  who  saw  each  other  every  day,  said : 
"You  don't  always  do  that,  do  you*?" 

"No,  I  usually  do  this."  And  I  kissed  her  on  the 
cheek. 

This  delightful  old  lady  had  been  "grandma"  to  us 
all  and  had  been  on  the  stage  many  years.  During  the 
run  of  Granny  she  died. 

After  Augustin  Daly  died,  Ada  Rehan  played  in 
Paul  Kester's  play.  Sweet  Nell  of  Old  Drury,  and  with 
Otis  Skinner  in  revivals  of  some  of  the  old  Daly  suc- 
cesses.   I  did  not  see  her  in  any  of  these  productions. 

The  last  time  I  saw  her  was  at  her  house  in  Ninety- 
third  Street.  She  was  ill  then  and  had  aged  a  great 
deal  in  appearance;  but  I  do  not  believe  either  of  us 
thought  that  it  was  our  last  meeting.  Our  conversation 
was  more  reminiscent  than  it  had  been  before.  We 
talked  of  those  youthful  days  at  the  Arch  Street 
Theatre  and  the  very  early  Daly  days. 

Ada  Rehan  had  a  fine  mind;  she  was  a  great  actress 
and  she  had  a  sweet  soul. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-SIX 

THE  season  of  1899  ^^id  1900  I  played  that  de- 
lightful comedy,  The  Tyranny  of  Tears,  by  C. 
Haddon  Chambers.  This  was  one  of  the  finest  light 
comedies  that  I  played.  I  revived  it  a  few  years  ago, 
and  it  was  equally  successful  then.  When  it  was  re- 
vived Chambers  came  over  and  made  certain  changes 
in  the  play  to  shorten  it  somewhat.  There  were  certain 
scenes  that  were  really  unnecessary.  In  the  last  act 
some  of  the  dialogue  between  the  girl  secretary  and 
Farburfs  friend  were  cut  out.  This  did  not  disturb 
the  play  or  the  continuity  of  the  action.  It  was  done 
so  that  I  might  play  the  same  evening  Barrie's  play. 
The  Will.  This  bill  was  one  of  the  most  attractive 
that  I  ever  played. 

The  role  of  Parbury^  the  novelist,  in  The  Tyranny 
of  Tears  was  a  most  grateful  one.  Isabel  Irving  was 
very  good  as  the  wife,  and  Ida  Conquest  made  a  great 
hit  as  Hyacinth  Woodward,  the  novelist's  amanuensis. 
In  the  revival  Laura  Hope  Crewes  was  the  wife  and 

Mary  Boland  the  secretary. 

197 


igS         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

The  original  cast  was : 

Parbury  John  Drew 

George  Gunning  Arthur  Byron 

Armitage  Harry  Harwood 

Evans  Frank  Lamb 

Hyacinth  Ida  Conquest 

Mrs.  Parbury  Isabel  Irving 

The  next  year  I  left  light  comedy  for  dramatized 
fiction.  As  Frohman  did  not  have  a  play  for  me,  I 
played  Richard  Carvel^  a  dramatization  of  Winston 
Churchill's  book  by  E.  E.  Rose. 

"C.  F."  asked  me  to  come  up  to  his  farm,  Hidden 
Brook  Farm  at  Mount  Kisco.  He  read  me  the  drama- 
tization.   "What  do  you  think  of  that?"  he  asked. 

I  didn't  know;  nor  did  I  know  at  that  time  that  the 
play  had  been  written  with  James  K.  Hackett  in  mind. 
/Charles  Frohman  had  bribed  or  cajoled  his  brother 
Dan  into  giving  this  thing  up  to  him  for  me.  Hackett 
would  have  been  ideal  for  the  character.  I  was  never 
happy  in  it.  It  was  out  of  my  sphere,  and  I  was  too 
old  for  the  young  hero. 

The  surprising  thing  of  my  tour  in  this  piece  is  that 
it  made  a  good  deal  of  money.  I  suppose  this  was  due 
to  the  popularity  of  the  book,  for  the  play  was  not  a 
very  good  one. 

The  cast  for  this  dramatization  was: 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  199 

Richard  Carvel  John  Drew 

Lionel  Carvel  Herbert  Carr 

Lord  Comyn  Arthur  Byron 

Duke  of  Chartersea  Frank  Losee 
Marmaduke  Manners  Harry  Harwood 

Grafton  Carvel  Lewis  Baker 

Captain  Lewis  Dodson  Mitchell 

Horace  Walpole  Francis  Powers 

Charles  Fox  Brandon  Tynan 

Dorothy  Manners  Ida  Conquest 

Patty  Swain  Olive  May 

Mrs.  Manners  Mrs.  W.  G.  Jones 

At  supper  one  night  in  Chicago  Sarah  Bernhardt 
asked  me  whether  I  would  like  to  come  to  Paris  and 
act  in  a  play  that  she  was  thinking  of  doing.  Sarah 
Bernhardt's  companion,  a  little  woman,  who  not  only 
was  her  companion,  but  played  parts  in  the  company, 
and  a  man  from  the  French  paper,  Figaro,  were  also 
present,  and  the  conversation  was  carried  on  in  French. 

I  was  very  diffident  about  my  French — that  is,  the 
thought  of  going  to  Paris  to  play  in  French  made  me 
feel  diffident.  "But  my  French  is  not  good  enough," 
I  said  in  answer  to  her  query. 

She  said :  "You  speak  French  very  well." 

"Yes,  that's  all  right — the  fluency  of  it  perhaps, 
but  not  the  accent." 

"Oh,  that  won't  matter.  This  is  an  Englishman 
you  are  going  to  play." 


200         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

Apparently  Madame  Bernhardt  had  not  a  very  high 
regard  for  the  English  fashion  of  speaking  French. 

My  niece,  Ethel  Barrymore,  played  a  few  parts  in 
my  company,  played  with  Irving  in  his  familiar  reper- 
toire in  London  and  played  Jessie  Milward's  part  in  a 
road  company  of  Captain  Marshall's  play  Hu  Excel- 
lency, the  Governor.  Then  Charles  Frohman  decided 
to  star  her  in  Clyde  Fitch's  play.  Captain  Jinks.  This 
play  of  New  York  life  just  after  the  Civil  War,  with 
costumes  inspired  by  Godey's  Ladies  Book  and  scenes 
in  the  Brevoort  House,  made  a  great  impression  when 
it  was  produced  in  New  York. 

Before  it  came  to  the  Garrick  Theatre,  it  was  tried 
out  at  the  Walnut  Street  Theatre  in  Philadelphia,  the 
oldest  theatre  in  the  country.  Twenty  years  ago  at 
the  Walnut  there  was  an  old-fashioned,  regular  gal- 
lery audience,  keen  to  approve  of  what  it  liked  and 
quick  to  voice  its  disapproval.  My  niece,  playing  for 
the  first  time  a  long  and  important  role,  was  somewhat 
nervous  and  not  quite  audible. 

A  friendly  voice  called  to  her  from  the  gallery: 
"Speak  up,  Ethel.  You're  all  right.  The  Drews  is 
all  good  actors.'* 


From  Theatre  Collection,  Harvard   Univcrsitii. 

ETHEL   BARRYMORE   AS  THE   RUSTIC    MAID   IN    "rOSEMARY 


CHAPTER   TWENTY-SEVEN 

WHEN  we  were  playing  The  Duke  of  Killi- 
crankze  at  the  National  Theatre  in  Washing- 
ton, President  Roosevelt  sent  for  me  to  come  into  his 
box  during  one  of  the  intermissions.  He  and  his  party 
were  in  the  box  usually  reserved  for  the  President,  and 
it  has  a  small  withdrawing  room  back  of  it.  I  had 
supposed  that  he  would  see  me  in  this  room.  Instead, 
when  he  greeted  me  he  drew  me  through  the  secret 
service  men  who  were  sitting  at  the  back.  With  him 
were  Mrs.  Roosevelt,  two  of  the  Roosevelt  children 
and  Mrs.  Henry  Cabot  Lodge. 

I  felt  much  perturbed  to  be  before  an  audience  on 
the  wrong  side  of  the  curtain.  It  did  not  occur  to 
President  Roosevelt  at  all  that  I  should  have  any  diffi- 
dence about  coming  before  people  with  my  make-up 
on.  His  greeting  was  most  hearty,  and  he  liked  the 
play. 

The  last  time  I  heard  from  him  was  a  few  weeks 
before  he  died,  when  he  wrote  me :  .  "Just  to  wish  you 
many  happy  New  Years,  John  Drew;  from  an  old 
friend  and  admirer." 

201 


202         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

Theodore  Roosevelt's  successor,  President  Taft,  also 
brought  me  to  the  front  of  a  box  in  my  make-up.  We 
were  playing  The  Perplexed  Husband  by  Alfred  Sutro 
at  the  Empire  Theatre  in  New  York,  when  President 
Taft  asked  me  to  come  into  the  box.  His  party  had 
arrived  late  and  was  not  seen  by  the  audience  when 
they  were  ushered  into  the  theatre.  The  lights  were 
turned  on,  and  I  appeared  in  the  box  just  as  the  audi- 
ence recognized  the  President. 

Captain  Marshall  wrote  two  very  delightful  com- 
edies in  which  I  played.  The  Second  in  Command  and 
The  Duke  of  Killicrankie. 

The  Second  in  Command  served  me  for  two  seasons. 
This  play  was  the  first  time  that  khaki  was  used  on  the 
stage;  that  is,  it  was  the  first  exposition  of  khaki  on 
the  stage  in  a  military  sense.  Guy  Standing,  who  was 
knighted  for  his  services  in  the  British  Navy  during 
the  recent  war,  was  extremely  good  as  Colonel  Ans- 
truther. 

My  nephew,  Lionel  Barrymore,  who  played  the  part 
of  a  young  officer  in  this  play  made  a  pleasing  impres- 
sion, but  the  following  season,  as  the  Neapolitan  organ 
grinder  in  The  Mummy  and  the  Humming  Bird  his 
work  was  a  revelation. 

The  original  cast  of  The  Second  in  Command  was : 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 


203 


Lieut.  Col.  Miles 

Anstruther,  D.  S.  O.  Guy  Standing 
Major  Christopher 

Bingham  John  Drew 

Lieutenant  Sir  Walter 


Mannering 
Lieutenant  Barker 
Medenhem 
Hartopp 
Sergeant 
Corporal 
Orderly 
Mr.  Fenwick 
The  Hon.  Hildebrand 

Carstairs 
The  Duke  of  Hull 
Muriel  Mannering 
Lady  Harburgh 
Norah  Vining 


Oswald  Yorke 
Lionel  Barrymore 
Reginald  Carrington 
Robert  Schable 
George  Harcourt 
Percy  Smith 
George  Ford 
Lewis  Baker 

Hassard  Short 
Robert  Mackay 
Ida  Conquest 
Ida  Vernon 
Caroline  Keeler 


The  Duke  of  Killicrankie  was  a  very  fine,  light  com- 
edy in  which  four  sharply  contrasted  characters  are 
thrown  together.  These  were  played  by  that  famous 
English  actress,  Fannie  Brough,  Margaret  Dale,  Ferdi- 
nand Gottschalk  and  myself. 

The  complete  cast  was: 


The  Duke 
Henry  Pitt  Welby 
Ambrose  Hicks 
Butler 


John  Drew 
Ferdinand  Gottschalk 
Lewis  Baker 
Robert  Schable 


Alexander  Macbayne  Reginald  Carrington 


204         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

Footman  B.  W.  Parmenter 
Countess  of 

Pangbourne  Kate  Lester 
Lady  Henrietta 

Addison  Margaret  Dale 

Mrs.  Mulholland  Fannie  Brough 

Mrs.  Macbayne  Constance  Bell 

The  summer  before  I  appeared  in  Captain  Dieppe 
by  Anthony  Hope  and  Edward  Rose,  I  met  the  two 
authors  in  London.  We  had  lunch  together,  and  ^^- 
thony  Hope  said  to  Rose:  "You  tell  the  story  of 
Captain  Dieppe^ 

Rose  replied:    "No,  I  told  it  the  last  time." 

Finally  after  some  little  arguing  between  them,  they 
told  me  the  story  of  this  play,  and  it  sounded  fairly 
reasonable.  When  it  was  presented,  it  did  not  have 
the  quality  of  an  Anthony  Hope  story,  and  it  was  not 
a  success. 

Elizabeth  Marbury,  who  was  Anthony  Hope's 
agent,  sent  him  a  cable  after  the  first  performance  in 
Providence  where  the  play  was  tried  out.  "Play  ap- 
parently pleased  Providence  public."  I  asked  Miss 
Marbury  afterwards  whether  she  thought  the  allitera- 
tion would  have  any  convincing  power  with  Anthony 
Hope. 

In  that  same  early  season  in  a  play  of  Clyde  Fitch's 
called  Glad  of  It,  in  which  my  nephew,  John  Barry- 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  20^ 

more,  had  a  small  part,  there  was  a  conversation  be- 
tween two  shop  girls. 

"Where  are  you  going  tonight,  dearie?" 

"Why,  to  see  John  Drew  in  Captain  Dippy." 

Unfortunately  for  this  play,  they  did  not  have  to 
change  the  line  for  Glad  of  It  was  an  even  greater 
failure  than  Captain  Dieppe. 

The  season  of  Augustus  Thomas's  play,  De  Lancey^ 
in  which  Doris  Keane,  Walter  Hale,  Margaret  Dale 
and  Guy  Nichols  played  with  me,  we  were  booked  to 
open  New  Year's  day  at  the  Hollis  Street  Theatre  in 
Boston.  There  was  no  morning  train  at  that  time  which 
we  could  count  on  getting  us  to  Boston  in  time  for  the 
matinee. 

Every  year  on  the  anniversary  of  the  opening  of  The 
Players — New  Year's  Eve — there  is  celebrated 
Founders'  Night.  I  very  much  wished  to  attend  this 
year,  especially  as  it  was  the  first  year  that  I  was 
president  of  the  club. 

Through  the  influence  of  a  friend  in  the  railroad 
business  I  was  given  permission  to  have  a  private  car 
containing  my  company — several  of  the  men  were 
members  of  The  Players  and  also  wanted  to  be  there 
that  night — attached  to  the  newspaper  and  mail  train 
that  arrives  in  Boston  early  in  the  morning. 

We  had  the  most  uncomfortable  train  ride  and  ar- 


2o6         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

rived  early,  far  out  in  the  yards.  We  went  to  our 
hotels,  where  we  learned  that  we  were  not  booked  to 
play  a  holiday  matinee.  New  Year's  Day  was  not  at 
that  time  a  holiday  in  the  state  of  Massachusetts.  The 
company  manager  had  not  taken  the  trouble  to  consult 
the  Frohman  office.  He  took  it  for  granted  that  we 
were  to  play  a  matinee. 


CHAPTER   TWENTY-EIGHT 

MY  season  at  the  Empire  Theatre  under  the 
management  of  Charles  Frohman  usually 
opened  on  Labor  Day  or  very  close  to  that  day.  I 
played  a  varying  number  of  weeks  in  New  York  and 
then  went  on  tour.  Our  itinerary  on  the  road  was  much 
the  same,  except  that  we  did  not  go  to  the  Coast  every 
year.  One  year  we  would  go  to  New  Orleans,  playing 
Richmond,  Charleston,  Savannah  and  the  intervening 
towns  on  our  way,  and  the  next  year  we  would  go  to 
the  Coast. 

The  year  that  we  did  My  Wife^  a  comedy  by 
Michael  Morton  from  the  French  of  Devault  et  Char- 
nay^  we  went  both  South  and  West.  We  reached  the 
Coast  just  at  the  time  the  fleet  came  into  San  Fran- 
cisco; that  was  the  year  that  Roosevelt  sent  the  fleet 
around  the  world.  There  was  a  great  deal  of  enthusi- 
asm and  a  good  deal  of  entertaining  for  the  officers  and 
men.  I  knew  a  great  many  of  the  commanders,  and 
we  visited  several  of  the  ships  for  lunch. 

We  were  playing  in  the  Van  Ness  Theatre,  a  theatre 

which  was  built  hurriedly  after  the  fire.    It  seated  an 

207 


2o8         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

enormous  number  of  people.  It  had  a  corrugated-iron 
roof  and  when  the  summer  trade  winds  came  up  during 
the  matinee  they  rattled  the  roof  so  much  that  the  audi- 
ence could  barely  hear  what  was  said  on  the  stage. 

My  Wife  did  an  enormous  business  in  San  Fran- 
cisco that  year,  as  it  had  done  everywhere  on  the  road. 
In  all  the  towns  that  we  visited,  Billie  Burke,  who  was 
my  leading  woman,  was  acclaimed  as  a  charming  ac- 
tress and  a  beautiful  woman.  She  played  Beatrice 
Dupre.    The  cast  for  My  Wife  was: 

Gerald  Eversligh  John  Drew 
The  Hon.  Gibson 

Gore  .  Ferdinand  Gottschalk 
Captain  Putnam 

Frezby  Walter  Soderling 

M.  Dupre  Morton  Selten 

Baron  Goranclos  Albert  Roccardi 

M.  Valborne  Mario  Majeroni 

M.  PoTiN  Axel  Bruun 

Da  VIES  Herbert  Budd 

Crocker  Rex  McDougal 

Headwaiter  E.  Soldene  Powell 

Rene  Flanders  Frank  Goldsmith 

Porter  L.  C.  Howard 

Beatrice  Dupre  Billie  Burke 
Miriam  Hawthorne  Dorothy  Tenant 

Mrs.  Denham  Fane  Ida  Greeley  Smith 

Barones  Granclos  Hope  Latham 

Madam  Dupre  Mrs.  Kate  Pattison  Selten 

Marie  May  Gayler 


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MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE         209 

In  this  play  I  was  the  guardian  of  Beatrice,  who 
runs  away  from  a  school  and  suddenly  appears  at  my 
place.  We  go  to  Switzerland,  and  I  gradually  fall  in 
love  with  her.    On  our  return  we  are  married. 

Someone  sent  out  some  press  stuff  that  I  was  not 
only  her  guardian  in  the  play,  but  that  I  had  some 
years  before  made  a  pact  with  her  father,  whose  name 
also  was  Billie  Burke,  that,  in  case  of  his  death,  I 
would  look  out  for  his  daughter.  Of  course  there  was 
no  truth  in  this  statement,  and  Billie  Burke  became 
my  leading  woman  because  she  had  done  well  in  some 
Frohman  plays  in  London.  Charles  Frohman  was 
much  pleased  with  her  reception  in  this  country,  and 
the  following  year  he  starred  her  in  Love  Watches. 

One  night  just  after  the  play  in  San  Francisco,  word 
was  brought  into  my  dressing  room  that  Mr.  Daly 
wanted  to  see  me.  I  did  not  know  anyone  named  Daly 
in  the  city  at  that  time,  nor  could  I  place  him  when 
a  large,  powerful-looking  Chinaman  wearing  Ameri- 
can clothes  was  ushered  into  my  room. 

"You  don't  remember  Lu  Lung,  Mr.  Drew,"  he 
said  without  any  accent. 

Then  I  remembered  that  on  one  of  our  trips  to  the 
Coast  years  before,  Augustin  Daly  had  bought  a  little 
Chinaman  from  his  parents  for  a  period  of  three  years. 
For  a  while  Lu  Lung  Daly,  dressed  in  beautiful  Chi- 


210         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

nese  clothes,  had  given  out  the  programs  in  the  lobby 
of  Daly's  Theatre,  and  Augustin  Daly  was  greatly 
pleased  with  his  contract ;  but  he  became  very  tired  of 
the  little  Chinaman  and  got  too  much  of  him  in  his 
household  and  in  his  employ. 

Daly  never  found  a  way  to  get  out  of  the  arrange- 
ment which  he  had  made  with  the  boy's  parents,  and 
it  used  to  amuse  the  rest  of  us  a  great  deal;  for  he 
never  found  any  difficulty  in  getting  rid  of  anyone  else 
connected  with  the  theatre.  He  was  forced  to  support 
the  boy  for  the  entire  period. 

Now  he  stood  before  me,  recalling  the  old  days  and 
telling  me  of  Chinatown  where,  from  his  own  talk,  he 
seemed  to  be  something  of  a  power. 

"But  why  do  you  call  yourself  Daly*?"  I  asked. 

"I  was  Daly — Lu  Lung  Daly — when  I  knew  you, 
and  I  thought  you  would  remember  me  that  way." 

Earlier  that  same  season  I  had  been  playing  in  Louis- 
ville the  first  three  days  of  the  week,  and  E.  H. 
Sothern  was  to  follow  me  for  the  last  three.  Before 
I  left  town  Sothern  arrived,  and  we  met  in  the  corridor 
of  the  hotel.  We  were  joined  by  a  very  dignified  old 
gentleman,  who  was  evidently  a  citizen  of  the  town. 

He  came  up,  bowed  and  said  to  Sothern:  "Mr. 
Mansfield,  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you  here,  and  I'm 
going  to  be  delighted  to  attend  every  performance  of 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE         211 

ycmrs  during  your  all  too  brief  sojourn.  I  have 
watched  your  career,  Mr.  Mansfield." 

The  citizen  of  Louisville  shook  hands  with  Sothem 
again  and  walked  away. 

"Why,  in  heaven's  name,  didn't  you  say  some- 
thing^" I  asked. 

"What  was  there  to  say*?"  said  Sothern. 

"He  doesn't  know  that  Dick  Mansfield  is  dead,'*  I 
went  on. 

"Well,"  said  Sothern,  "that  doesn't  hurt  me  so 
much.    He  doesn't  know  that  I'm  alive." 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-NINE 


1  PLAYED  two  plays  by  W.  Sommerset  Maugham : 
Smith  and  Jack  Straw.  Smithy  in  which  Mary 
Boland  played  the  title  part,  was  a  success  from  the 
beginning. 

The  cast  of  Smith  was: 


Thomas  Freeman 

Herbert  Dallas-Baker  K. 

Algernon  Peppercorn 

Fletcher 

Mrs.  Dallas  Baker 

Emily  Chapman 

Mrs.  Otto  Rosenberg 

Smith 


John  Drew 
C.    Morton  Selten 
Hassard  Short 
Louis  Casson 
Isabel  Irving 
Sibil  Thorndike 
Jane  Laurel 
Mary  Boland 


Jack  Straw,  which  like  Smith  had  a  great  success, 
had  this  cast: 


Jack  Straw 
Ambrose  Holland 
Lord  Serlo 
Count  Adrian 
Von  Bremer 
Mr.  Parke  Jennings 
Vincent,  his  son 
Rev.  Lewis  Abbott 

212 


John  Drew 

Edgar  L.  Davenport 

Frank  Goldsmith 

Mario  Majeroni 
Fred  Tyler 
Edwin  Nicander 
E.  Soldene  Powell 


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MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  213 

Mrs.  Parke  Jennings  Rose  Coghlan 
Ethel,  her  daughter  Mary  Boland 
Lady  Wanley  Adelaide  Prince 

Rosie  Abbott  Kate  Kimball 

Mrs.  Withers  Grace  Henderson 

In  the  company  there  were  also  a  number  of  ama- 
teurs who  walked  on  and  took  places  at  tables  in  the 
restaurant  scene.  One  of  the  young  men  had  nothing 
to  do  except  to  walk  to  a  table  with  a  young  woman, 
to  be  told  by  the  head  waiter  to  go  to  another  table^ 
and  then,  after  they  had  moved,  only  to  be  told  that 
they  must  move  again.  They  are  supposed  to  be  very 
irate  at  this.    It  was  all  dumb  show. 

When  we  were  on  tour  we  reached  the  native  town 
of  this  young  man,  and  the  papers  in  advance  had 
some  small  notices  about  him  and  that  he  was  a  mem- 
ber of  my  company. 

"It's  too  bad,"  I  told  him,  "that  you  are  making 
your  first  appearance  in  your  home  town  as  a  mere 
figure." 

I  wrote  him  some  lines,  so  that  this  friendly  audi- 
ence could  see  him  do  something  more  than  merely 
walk  on  and  so  that  he  could  say  that  he  had  acted  in 
a  play. 

The  night  of  the  performance  came.  The  house  was 
full  of  his  friends,  and  they  gave  him  a  great  recep- 


214         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

tion,  so  great  that  he  forgot  all  the  lines  that  I  had 
written  for  him.  He  just  went  through  the  dumb 
show  as  usual. 

Sudden  loss  of  memory  in  the  theatre  is  not  uncom- 
mon, and  it  is  often  tragic  in  its  consequences.  But 
there  is  an  amusing  story  of  an  old  actor  who  had  been 
out  of  a  job  for  a  long  time.  Finally,  he  obtained  a 
small  part  which,  for  anyone  of  experience,  should 
have  been  easily  learned. 

In  the  play  he  had  a  speech  in  which  he  advises  his 
son  to  be  very  diligent  and  persistent.  This  fatherly 
advice  ended  with  the  good  old  adage  that  "time  is 
money." 

When  he  got  to  this  line  on  the  opening  night  he 

said:     "Don't  forget  that  time  is "     He  paused, 

coughed  and  appealed  to  the  prompter,  who  answered 
in  an  audible  whisper :    "Money." 

The  old  actor :    "Oh,  yes — time  is  money." 

The  deduction  was  that  it  had  been  so  long  since 
he  had  had  any  money  that  he  had  forgotten  that  it 
existed. 

My  daughter,  Louise  Drew,  and  I  were  riding  in 
Central  Park  one  afternoon  in  December  of  the  year 
that  I  was  playing  Inconstant  George  at  the  Empire. 
My  mare  stumbled  and,  while  I  was  trying  to  get  her 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE         215 

on  her  feet  again,  she  fell.  Before  I  could  disengage 
my  feet  from  the  stirrups  she  rolled  over  me.  My 
collar  bone  was  broken,  my  shoulder  fractured  and 
the  ligaments  in  my  right  leg  twisted. 

My  daughter  was  wearing  a  safety  riding  skirt,  but 
for  some  unknown  reason  it  refused  to  work  when  she 
tried  to  dismount,  and  she  was  caught  on  the  pommel. 
She  finally  disengaged  herself,  and  a  mounted  police- 
man, to  whom  she  had  called,  came  up.  I  was  taken 
to  the  Presbyterian  Hospital,  where  Dr.  Joseph  Blake 
set  my  shoulder. 

While  I  was  in  the  hospital  I  received  a  letter  from 
Frederick  Remington,  the  painter : 

See  by  paper  you  are  on  the  mend.  You  know 
I  have  a  life  sentence  to  walk  on  one  leg  because 
of  a  horse,  so  I  can  sympathize.  You  don't  have 
to  walk  on  your  hands,  but  you  will  have  to  be 
easy  when  you  "muscle  out"  chairs  as  you  once 
did  so  grandly. 

I  have  observed  that  a  man  don't  have  so  much 
glue  in  the  seat  of  his  pants  at  40  as  at  20.  All 
those  in  favor  of  this  motion  say,  "How !" 

When  I  came  out  of  the  hospital  Frederick  Reming- 
ton was  dead. 

I  attended  the  horse  show  in  Madison  Square  Gar- 
den with  Frederick  Remington  one  time.     We  were 


2i6         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

standing  at  the  ring  watching  a  man  we  both  knew 
riding  a  horse  over  some  hurdles.  When  this  rider 
passed  us  I  could  hear  Remington  muttering  impreca- 
tions under  his  breath. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you?"  I  asked.  "You 
know  Frank  very  well.    Don't  you  like  him?" 

"Of  course  I  like  him.  He's  a  fine  fellow.  But  I 
used  to  be  able  to  do  that  once,"  Remington  said  plain- 
tively.   By  that  time  he  had  become  quite  stout. 

After  some  weeks  I  returned  to  playing,  and  I 
opened  my  season  in  Boston  with  Inconstant  George, 
the  play  I  had  been  doing  before.  This  adaptation 
from  the  French  of  L'Ane  de  Buridan  was  never  so  suc- 
cessful in  this  country  as  it  was  afterwards  in  England, 
where  Charles  Hawtrey  played  the  leading  part,  that 
of  a  man  of  many  love  affairs  who  falls  victim  to  a 
young  woman  at  last. 

The  American  cast  for  Inconstant  George  was : 

George  Bullin  John  Drew 

LuciAN  DeVersannes  Martin  Sabine 
MoRLAND  Fred  Tilden 

Adolpheus  Rex  McDougal 

GiRAND  W.  Soderling 

Butler  Bernard  Fairfax 

Page  Boy  Robert  Schable 

MicHELiNE  Mary  Roland 

Odette  de  Versannes  Adelaide  Prince 


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MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 


217 


Fanchon  Chancelle 
VivETTE  Lambert 
Baroness  Stecke 
Madam  De  Lamond 
Louise 


Jane  Laurel 
Desmond  Kelly 
Marie  Berkeley 
Carlotta  Doty 
Alice  Soderling 


After  I  left  the  Daly  company  I  played  but  one 
Shakespearian  character,  Benedick,  in  Much  Ado  About 
Nothing.  I  had  always  wanted  to  play  this  character, 
and  when  Maude  Adams  and  I  were  playing  together 
I  wanted  her  to  play  Beatrice.  We  talked  about  it  a 
great  deal,  but  it  was  years  afterwards  before  I  finally 
played  Benedick,  and  Laura  Hope  Crewes  was  the 
Beatrice. 

In  this  Shakespearian  revival  the  cast  was: 


Don  Pedro 

Don  John 

Claudio 

Benedick 

Leonato 

Antonio 

Bathazar 

CONRADE 

borachio 

Friar  Francis 

Dogberry 

Verges 

A  Sexton 

Oatcake 

Seacole 

Hero 


Frank  Kemble  Cooper 
Frank  Elliott 
Fred  Eric 
John  Drew 
Henry  Stephenson 
Sidney  Herbert 
Nigel  Barry 
Herbert  Delmore 
Edward  Longman 
Bertram  Marburgh 
Hubert  Druce 
Malcolm  Bradley 
Walter  Soderling 
Rexford  Kendrick 
Murray  Ross 
Mary  Boland 


2i8         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 


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Beatrice  Laura  Hope  Crewes 

Margaret  Florence  Harrison 

Ursula  Alice  John 


Frohman  did  not  care  much  about  the  Shakespearian 
comedy,  but  he  was  not  unwilling  that  I  should  play 
Benedick.  I  suppose  that  I  had  been  away  from  this 
style  of  comedy  too  long — more  than  twenty  years; 
in  any  event,  the  production  was  not  a  success,  and  the 
acting  was  not  up  to  the  standard  set  in  the  Daly  pro- 
ductions of  Shakespeare.  This  revival  was  withdrawn 
and  my  old  success,  The  Tyranny  of  Tears,  with 
Barrie's  fine  play  in  three  scenes.  The  Will,  used  as 
an  afterpiece. 

Joseph  H.  Choatc,  while  ambassador  to  England, 
had  always  been  extremely  kind  and  gracious  to  my 
niece,  Ethel  Barrymore,  and  myself  when  we  were  in 
London.  I  always  had  a  lively  recollection  of  this 
kindness,  and  one  day  when  I  was  walking  down  Fifth 
Avenue  I  saw  before  me  a  somewhat  bowed  figure, 
which  I  recognized  to  be  that  of  Choate. 

I  overtook  him  and  said:  "Do  you  remember  me, 
Mr.  Choate?" 

He  looked  at  me  for  a  moment  and  said:  "Good 
God,  it's  Drew." 

"I  said:    "It  is." 

"Mercy,  why  don't  you  grow  old?"  he  asked. 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE         219 

It  was  then  some  years  since  our  meetings  in  London. 

I  replied:  "I  don't  know,  Mr.  Choate,  unless  I  can 
explain  in  the  words  of  old  Mr.  Adam  m  As  You  Like 
It^  who  says :  'Never  in  my  youth  did  I  apply  hot  and 
rebellious  liquors  in  my  blood.'  " 

He  looked  at  me  quizzically  under  his  bushy  eye- 
brows and  asked:    "Drew,  is  that  entirely  true?" 

I  laughed  with  him  and  said:  "No,  sir,  it  isn't. 
That's  what  quotations  are  for." 

He  patted  me  on  the  shoulder,  and  we  parted. 

In  these  years  as  a  Frohman  star  I  also  played 
Pinero's  fine  play,  His  House  in  Order^  in  which  Mar- 
garet Illington  gave  a  splendid  performance  and  for 
this  the  cast  was: 

Hilary  Jesson  John  Drew 

FiLMER  Jesson,  M.  p.  C.  M.  Hallard 

Derek  Jesson  Leona  Powers 

Sir  Daniel  Ridgeley  Arthur  Elliot 

Pryce  Ridgeley  Martin  Sabine 

Major  Maurewarde  Henry  Vibart 

Dr.  Dilnott  Herbert  Budd 

Harding  Gilbert  Douglas 

FoRSHAW  Rex  McDougal 

Servants  Maurice  Franklyn 

Henry  Fearing 

Nina  Margaret  Illington 

Lady  Ridgeley  Lena  Halliday 

Geraldine  Ridgeley  Madge  Girdlestone 

Mlle.  Thome  Hope  Latham 


220         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

Then  there  were  The  Perplexed  Husband  by  Alfred 
Sutro;  The  Prodigal  Husband ^  which  was  adapted 
from  the  French;  The  Chief  by  Horace  Annesley  Va- 
chell ;  and  A  Single  Man  by  Hubert  Davies,  in  which 
Ivan  Simpson,  Mary  Boland,  Thais  Lawton  and  my 
daughter,  Louise  Drew  appeared. 


CHAPTER   THIRTY 

ONCE,  on  an  Italian  holiday,  we  set  out  from 
Sorrento  to  drive  along  the  Mediterranean  to 
Amalfi,  where  we  were  to  lunch.  On  the  way  we 
stopped  at  a  place  called  Positano,  a  dreadful  town. 
A  lot  of  windows  were  broken,  and  the  town  seerned 
badly  in  need  of  repair.  I  think  most  of  the  people 
had  migrated  to  this  country.  However,  when  we  drew 
up  at  the  principal  inn  the  proprietor  came  out.  I 
had  a  guide  with  me,  and  he  spoke  to  him  in  Italian. 

The  proprietor  wanted  to  know  if  we  would  like  to 
stop  for  lunch,  but  we  declined.  Mrs.  Drew  and  my 
daughter  ordered  a  lemonade.  I  ordered  some  beer. 
All  this  time  this  guide  of  mine  was  talking  English 
to  me  and  Italian  to  the  proprietor. 

A  young  woman  who  was  traveling  with  us  wanted  a 
glass  of  milk.  The  proprietor  was  an  extremely  good 
appearing  young  man.  He  wore  fairly  good  clothes 
and  did  not  look  like  a  proprietor  of  an  inn  over  there. 

Our  drinks  were  brought  in,  and  he  finally  came  in 
himself  with  this  glass  of  milk,  and  he  had  a  humorous 

221 


222         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

look  on  his  face.  He  put  it  down  by  the  young  woman 
with  us  who  tasted  it  and  exclaimed :  "They've  heated 
it." 

It  turned  out  afterwards  that  it  had  been  milked  out 
of  a  goat  in  the  back  yard.  My  courier  was  at  that  time 
downstairs  having  his  drinks,  so  I  asked  the  young 
proprietor  in  Italian  for  some  ice  to  put  in  the  milk, 
and  he  laughed.  I  thought  he  was  laughing  at  my 
Italian,  but  he  said:  "Say,  bo,  you  might  as  well  ask 
me  for  a  gold  mine  over  here." 

Of  course  consternation  and  astonishment  were  reg- 
istered by  all  of  us. 

I  said:  "Where  did  you  get  that  Second  Avenue 
East  Side  English*?" 

"I  lived  there,"  he  said. 

"Aren't  you  Italian^" 

"Yes,  I  was;  but  I  went  over  there  with  me  parents." 
He  had  lived  all  his  life  on  the  East  Side. 

I  said:    "What  are  you  doing  here^" 

"Well,"  he  said,  "me  uncle  bought  this  place." 

His  uncle,  it  seems,  had  gone  to  the  United  States 
years  before  and  had  made  some  money  in  a  restaurant. 
He  had  bought  this  inn  when  he  had  made  enough 
money  to  do  so.  It  was  rather  an  historic  place  in  a 
way. 

"Are  you  going  to  stay  here?" 


JOHN    DREW    AT    EASTHAMPTON,    LONG    ISLAND 


KYALAMI,   JOHN    DREW's    HOUSE    AT   EASTHAMPTON 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE         223 

"Naw.  Me  mother's  coming  over  soon,  and  when 
she  does,  me  for  the  big  city." 

The  whole  thing  struck  me  as  very  extraordinary. 
"When  you  get  back  to  the  big  city  you  must  come  and 
see  me,"  I  said. 

He  asked:    "What's  your  name*?" 

I  told  him. 

"Sure,"  he  said,  "I  know  you.  You  got  a  cigar 
factory  there." 

He  referred  of  course  to  a  five-cent  cigar  that  was 
named  after  me  without  my  consent. 

It  was  more  flattering  even  than  the  occasion  when 
Lewis  and  I  were  recognized  by  the  impudent  child  in 
the  garden  at  Hamburg. 

When  we  got  to  Amalfi,  just  after  we  had  had  lunch. 
Burton  Holmes  turned  up.  He  greeted  us  and  said: 
"I've  just  met  a  friend  of  yours  a  few  miles  back.  He 
says  he  knows  you  very  well." 

I  said :  "Was  it  the  proprietor  of  the  inn  at  Posi- 
tano?" 

Holmes  said  that  he  had  been  looking  over  the  reg- 
ister, which  was  very  old  and  interesting.  In  it  he  saw 
the  names  of  our  party. 

"There's  somebody  I  know,"  Holmes  said  to  the 
proprietor  of  the  inn. 

"He  was  here  today." 


224         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

"I  know  him  very  well,"  said  Holmes. 

"So  do  I,"  said  the  young  man;  "many  a  time  I 
seen  him  act  at  the  Fourteenth  Street  Theatre." 

Never  in  my  whole  career  have  I  played  there. 

We  went  to  Prague  in  Bohemia,  and  on  our  arrival 
at  the  Blauen  Stern  Hotel  we  also  found  many  win- 
dows broken  but  this  time  not  from  want  of  repair. 
Upon  inquiry  we  found  that  it  had  been  done  by  the 
infuriated  citizens  the  day  before,  Sunday.  All  the 
signs  there  were  in  Czech  as  well  as  in  German.  The 
people  had  not  seen  this.  They  had  only  seen  the  Ger- 
man name  on  the  hotel,  and  they  proceeded  to  break 
all  the  windows. 

We  were  going  to  the  opera  that  night,  and  when  we 
came  out  of  the  hotel  I  saw  that  the  porter  was  busy 
putting  some  other  people  into  a  trap ;  so  I  hailed  a  cab- 
man and  told  him,  in  German,  to  take  me  to  the  opera 
and  then  to  come  back  for  me. 

He  looked  at  me  as  much  as  to  say:  "You're  a  poor 
boob." 

By  that  time  the  hotel  porter  had  finished  with  the 
other  people  and  came  over  to  us.  I  said  to  him: 
"What  is  the  matter  with  this  fellow  that  he  doesn't 
want  to  take  me*?" 

He  answered  me  in  English:  "He  speaks  no  Ger- 
man.   He  speaks  only  Czech." 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE         225 

And  he  spoke  to  him  in  this  impossible  tongue  and 
the  man  took  me  on  my  way.  I  bought  a  local  paper. 
It  was  the  most  awful-looking  thing.  It  was  worse  than 
Magyar.  It  looked  as  if  a  drunken  compositor  had 
just  taken  type  and  hurled  it  at  the  sheet.  Arthur 
Byron,  who  was  in  my  company  in  so  many  plays,  was 
playing  in  Chicago  at  that  time.  I  decided  since  I 
could  not  read  the  paper  to  send  it  to  him.  I  marked 
a  certain  portion  of  it  and  sent  it  on  with  a  notation 
on  the  side  that  it  was  a  good  notice  of  me. 

Byron  told  me  afterwards  that  he  received  the  paper 
just  as  he  was  coming  out  of  the  theatre  after  long 
hours  of  rehearsing.  He  had  been  much  annoyed  by  an 
actor  in  the  company  who  had  been  extremely  nervous 
during  the  rehearsal,  as  a  result  of  unwisely  celebrating 
the  night  before. 

"What's  that*?"  the  nervous  actor  asked. 

"You  know  Drew^"  said  Byron. 

The  actor  agreed  that  he  did,  and  Byron  handed  him 
the  paper  saying:  "There's  a  notice  of  Drew.  He's  in 
Germany  now.     It's  splendid." 

The  nervous  actor  took  the  paper,  looked  at  the  mess 
of  meaningless  type  and  with  a  cry,  fled  madly. 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-ONE 

IN  the  revival  of  Rosemary^  I  was  booked  to  appear 
for  one  night  in  the  Metropolitan  Theatre  at 
Rochester,  Minnesota,  the  home  of  the  Mayo  brothers. 
When  I  reached  the  theatre  I  found  it  was  a  horrible 
hole.  The  condition  of  things  behind  the  scenes  was 
shocking,  to  say  the  least.  I  was  infuriated  with  my 
stage  manager,  because  he  hadn't  told  me  about  the 
theatre.  He  had  gone  there  during  the  day  in  time  to 
have  had  something  done.  At  least  there  might  have 
been  some  cleaning  done. 

I  wrote  to  the  health  officer,  who  happened  to  be  one 
of  the  Mayo  brothers,  and  told  him  of  the  desperate 
condition  of  the  theatre.  He  went  with  the  mayor  of 
the  town  to  see  the  place  and  ordered  the  theatre  closed 
until  it  should  be  renovated  and  cleaned. 

I  had  a  feeling  that  I  had  not  done  myself  any  good, 
for  I  had  to  give  my  performance,  but  that  I  had  bet- 
tered the  place  for  the  next  touring  company.  I  wrote 
to  Charles  Frohman  about  the  matter,  and  the  last 

letter  I  ever  received  from  him  informed  me  that  this 

226 


PAVLOWA  AND  JOHN  DREW,  AT  THE  TIME  OF  THE  REVIVAL  OF      ROSEMARY 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE         227 

theatre  was  scratched  by  his  office,  Klaw  and  Erlanger 
and  others. 

I  did  not  see  Charles  Frohman  before  he  sailed  on 
the  "Lusitania,"  but  when  I  was  in  Anaconda  I  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  him  telling  me  that  he  was  sailing 
very  shortly.  Alf  Hayman,  who  owned  the  Empire 
Theatre  and  ran  the  business  affairs  of  the  Frohman 
offices,  and  I,  had  tried  to  dissuade  him.  He  laughed 
at  us  for  our  fear  for  him.    This  last  letter  of  his  read : 

The  Metropolitan,  Rochester,  Minnesota,  is 
scratched  by  this  office,  K.  &  E.,  and  others.  You 
did  it  and  I  am  glad.  As  I  telegraphed  you  I 
gave  that  play  that  I  had  intended  for  you  a  calm 
reading  in  my  own  home  and  I  rather  fear  it  is  a 
bit  old-fashioned  and  too  talky.  I  have  given  it 
up.  You  see  when  one  reads  these  things  away 
from  New  York  it  is  different  and  most  anything 
is  acceptable.  It  is  different  when  you  are  at  home. 
I  know  you  like  to  be  away  from  New  York  (I 
had  written  Frohman  asking  that  the  tour  be 
ended).  Alf  Hayman  has  just  told  me  how  eager 
you  are  to  continue  after  Los  Angeles.  If  you 
play  a  week  to  cover  the  railroad  fares  it  will  be 
all  right.  Why  a  young  man  like  you  likes  to 
continue  on  these  tours  I  don't  know.  I  hope  to 
get  away  on  May  first  and  back  shortly  after  you 
reach  here.  I  am  searching  for  something  for  you. 
Our  last  talk  before  you  left  for  the  West  gave 
me  much  happiness. 


228         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

When  I  received  this  letter  I  was  days  from  New- 
York,  and  there  wasn't  even  time  to  write  Frohman.  I 
telegraphed  and,  after  whatever  private  matters  I  had 
to  tell  him,  I  said : 

If  you  get  yourself  blown  up  by  a  submarine 
I'll  never  forgive  you. 

This  was  my  last  communication  with  the  man  who 
for  twenty-three  years  had  been  my  manager  and  with 
whom  I  had  never  had  the  slightest  disagreement. 

C.  F.  had  a  feeling,  almost  a  superstitious  feeling, 
that  as  I  was  his  first  star  I  must  always  be  regarded 
and  cherished  and  cosseted.  William  Gillette  was  his 
second  star,  but  he  had  been  a  star  before  he  came 
under  Frohman's  management. 

I  was  in  Vancouver  when  I  heard  that  the  "Lusi- 
tania"  had  been  sunk,  but  we  had  no  news  of  the  people 
on  the  boat.  We  were  on  our  way  to  our  next  stop, 
Everett,  Washington;  and  there  my  acting  manager 
and  I  sat  up  in  the  telegraph  room  of  a  small  news- 
paper office  for  hours.  Here  we  learned  that  Charles 
Frohman  was  among  those  lost. 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-TWO 

SPEAK  your  piece  good  and  you  will  get  a  big  red 
apple,"    was   an   ancient   wheeze   of   the    rural 
schools. 

When  my  niece,  Ethel  Barrymore,  appeared  for  the 
first  time  at  the  Garrick  Theatre  in  New  York  in  Clyde 
Fitch's  play,  Captain  Jinks^  I  gave  her  a  large  red 
apple.  This  was  the  start  of  a  custom  that  I  have 
since  observed  on  the  first  night  of  the  plays  in  which 
not  only  my  niece,  but  my  two  nephews,  Lionel  and 
John  Barrymore,  appear.  And  in  recent  years  my  niece 
and  nephews  have  sent  me  a  large  red  apple  on  the  first 
nights  of  the  plays  in  which  I  have  appeared. 

The  two  Barrymore  boys  did  not  go  on  the  stage  so 
early  as  their  sister.  They  both  thought  of  careers  out- 
side of  the  theatre,  John  as  a  newspaper  artist  and 
Lionel  as  a  painter.  John  was  for  a  time  on  the  art 
staff  of  the  Evening  Journal  in  New  York.  He  drew 
clever  but  involved  pictures.  I  remember  one  entitled 
"The  Web  of  Life,"  in  which  a  lot  of  weird  people 
were  trying  to  get  across  some  place.  It  carried  an 
editorial  note  which  began :  "This  is  not  an  unpleas- 
ant picture  when  looked  at  properly." 

229 


230         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

Shortly  after  1900  they  were  all  three  on  the  stage, 
where  practically  every  member  of  their  family  before 
them  had  been.  John  is  the  only  one  of  the  three  Barry- 
mores  who  has  not  played  in  my  company.  In  May, 
1914,  my  niece  and  I  appeared  at  the  Empire  in  Sar- 
dou's  comedy,  A  Scrap  of  Paper,  with  this  cast: 

Prosper  Couramont     John  Drew 
Baron  De 

LaGlaciere  Charles  Dalton 

Brisemouche  Fuller  Mellish 

Anatole  Ernest  Glendinning 

Francois  Frank  McCoy 

Suzanne  Ethel  Barrymore 
Louise  De 

LaGlaciere  Mary  Boland 

Mathilde  Charlotte  Ives 

Mlle.  Zenobie  Jeffrys  Lewis 

Madame  DupoNT  Mrs.  Thomas  Whiffen 

Pauline  Helen  Collier 

The  season  that  I  revived  Rosemary  I  received  from 
S.  Yeghi,  one  of  the  Japanese  commissioners  to  the 
Panama-Pacific  International  Exposition,  a  collection 
of  eighteen  character  dolls,  each  one  about  half  an  inch 
high.  They  are  all  vividly  colored  and  quaint,  some 
grotesque  and  some  serious.  The  letter  that  came  with 
them  was: 

When  I  arrived  at  San  Francisco  I  found  that 
one  very  artistic  friend  sent  me  from  Japan  the 


Photo,  by  Charlotte  Fairchild. 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE         231 

dolls  of  eighteen  plays  of  Kabuki.  In  Japan  there 
has  been  for  almost  two  hundred  years  the  family 
of  Ichikawa,  the  family  of  the  best  actors  of 
Japan.  In  this  family,  if  the  son  was  not  a  good 
actor  to  represent  the  family,  the  best  actor  of  the 
time  was  adopted  to  the  family  to  bear  the  name 
of  Ichikawa. 

There  are  eighteen  plays  which  were  selected 
by  this  family,  and  they  are  called  the  Eighteen 
Plays  of  Kabuki.  And  to  perform  any  of  the 
eighteen  plays,  one  should  obtain  permission  of 
the  family,  even  if  he  is  an  Ichikawa. 

The  dolls  signify  these  eighteen  plays  of  Ka- 
buki. Kabuki  could  be  translated  as  Drama,  and 
in  Kabuki  there  is  also  Dance  included. 

These  dolls  of  Kabuki  were  first  made  about 
one  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago,  and  they  were 
not  in  fashion  for  the  last  fifty  or  sixty  years. 
They  are  the  remains  of  the  art  of  the  Tokugawa 
period  and  they  are  plain,  simple  dolls  symboliz- 
ing the  plays. 

A  friend  of  mine  made  these  dolls  for  the  first 
time  in  the  last  sixty  years,  and  even  in  Japan 
they  are  very  novel  and  interesting. 

And  it  is  my  sincere  wish  to  present  these  dolls 
to  you,  and  I  wish  you  would  accept  them  with  my 
sincere  respect  for  your  art.  The  dolls  are  entirely 
made  with  hand,  they  are  modeled  with  hand  and 
colored  by  hand. 

Your  Rosemary  is  the  only  "Remembrance" 
that  would  make  me  think  of  America  when  I 
return  back  to  Japan.  Particularly  I  could  not 
forget  that  last  scene  of  Rosemary,  so  impres- 
sively lonesome. 


232         MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE 

I  could  not  forgive  myself  for  not  being  able 
to  see  you  in  New  York. 

I  am  going  back  to  Japan  in  about  one  month, 
after  settling  our  affairs  at  the  Exposition. 

And  I  am  greatly  anxious  to  have  two  photo- 
graphs of  yourself,  one  in  stage  costume,  and  one 
in  which  you  appear  as  yourself. 

And  before  your  photographs,  I  would  tell  the 
young  people  of  Japan  of  your  artful  acting,  for 
which  I  am  certain  they  would  pay  you  the  best 
and  highest  respect. 

Though  this  country  has  had  no  theatrical  family 
which  can  boast,  like  the  Ichikawa,  of  two  hundred 
years  in  the  theatre,  there  have  been  several  families 
closely  identified  with  the  stage.  In  an  editorial  article 
called  "Acting  Blood,"  the  New  York  Herald  a  few 
years  ago  printed: 

The  theatrical  profession  has  produced  families 
in  which  the  acting  blood  ran  strong  through  more 
than  one  generation.  The  Booths,  Jeffersons  and 
Davenports  were  notable  examples  of  inherited 
talent,  and  still  more  distinguished,  in  the  eyes  of 
the  present  generation  of  playgoers,  are  the 
Drews,  now  conspicuously  in  the  public  eye.  The 
founder  of  the  family  was  John  Drew,  one  of  the 
best  Irish  comedians  our  stage  has  known,  who 
flourished  during  the  fifties  and  whose  wife,  Mrs. 
John  Drew,  was  a  famous  Mrs.  Malaprop, 

My  daughter,  Louise  Drew,  the  granddaughter  of 
two  famous  actresses  of  the  American  stage,  my  mother, 


MY  YEARS  ON  THE  STAGE  233 

Louisa  Drew,  and  Alexina  Fisher  Baker,  and  the  great 
granddaughter  of  the  English  actress,  Eliza  Kinloch, 
together  with  the  three  children  of  my  sister,  Georgie 
Drew  Barrymore,  herself  an  actress  of  fine  talent,  are 
carrying  on  the  family  tradition  and  demonstrating  the 
possession  of  "acting  blood"  in  the  fourth  generation. 


\^-^  ^ 


%o..^^  '(^^o-^t^i'* 


\   L 


INDEX 


Abbey,  Edwin  A,  io6,  136. 
Adams,  Annie,  50,  171,  178. 
•^Adams,  Maude,  50,  169,  170,  171, 

173,  177.  178,  183,  184,  i86,  217. 
After  Business  Hours,  109. 
Aldrich,  Thomas  Bailey,  159,  161. 
All  the  Comforts  of  Home,  170. 
Allen,  C.  Leslie,  171,  177,  184. 
Amberly,   Lady,    n. 
Amberly,  Lord,   11. 
American,  The,  61. 
Arabian  Night,  An,  78. 
Archer,  Fred,   147. 
Arkansas  Traveler,  The,  37,  38. 
Armstrong,   Sydney,   182. 
As  You  Like  It,  95,  96,  98,  137, 

140. 
Ayling,   Herbert,    184. 

B 

Baker,  Alexins  Fisher,  38,  233. 
Baker,  Josephine.    See  Mrs.  John 

Drew. 
Baker,  Lewis,  38,  60,  61,  177,  184, 

193,  199.  203- 
Bancrofts,  The,   146. 
Barnes,  Maggie,  76. 
Barrett,    Lawrence,    94,    96,    159, 

161. 
Barrett,  Wilson,  93. 
Barrie,  J.  M.,  197,  218. 
Barry,  Nigel,  217. 
Barrymore,    Ethel,    56,    188,    190, 

200,  218,  229,  230,  233. 
Barrymore,    John,    204,   229,    230, 

233. 
Barrymore,  Lionel,  202,  203,  229, 

230,  233. 
Barrymore,   Maurice,    54,    57,    58, 

59,  62,  63,.  64,  66,  67,  68,  69. 


Barrymore,    Mrs.   Maurice.     See 

Georgie   iJrew. 
Bauble  Shop,   The,  183. 
Beau  Brummel,   171. 
Beekman,  W.  H.,   114, 
Belasco,  David,   182. 
Bell,  Constance,  204. 
Bell,  E.  Hamilton,  93,  no,  112. 
Belleville,  Frederick  de,  no. 
Bells,  The,  60. 
Belmont,  Anna,  184. 
Benedict,  E.   C,    159. 
Bennett,    Frank    V.,    76,    77,    165, 

166. 
Berkeley,  Marie,  217. 
Bernhardt,    Sarah,    61,    138,    199, 

200. 
Big  Bonanza,  The,  41,  43,  45,  46, 

47,  48. 
Bispham,   William,   159,   161. 

Blowitz,  M.  de,  142. 

Boland,  Mary,  197,  212,  213,  216, 

217,  220,  230. 
Bond,  Frederick,  93,  101,  112,  114, 

116. 
Booth,  Agnes,  98. 
Booth,   Edwin,   8,   24,   31,   54,   56, 

57.  58,  91.  159,  160,  232. 
Boots  at  the  Sixan,  88. 
Bosworth,    Hobart,    96,    98,    100, 

116. 
Bouchier,  Arthur,   139. 
Boucicault,   Dion,  47,  86,   182. 
Boughton,  George,  137. 
Bowers,  Mrs.  D.  P.,  8,  165,  183. 
Bowkett,   Sidney,   116. 
Bradley,   Malcolm,  217. 
Brand,  John,  84. 
Brighton,  151. 
Brough,  Fannie,  203,  204. 
Brown,  Allston,  114. 
Browning,  Robert,  137. 


335 


236 


INDEX 


Bruun,  Axel,  208. 
Buckland,  Wilfred,  100. 
Budd,  Herbert,  208,  219. 
Buchanan,  Virginia,  171. 
Bunch  of  Keys,  A,  164. 
Bunner,  H.  C.,  io6. 
Burke,  Billie,  208,  209. 
Burnand,  F.  C,  138,   139. 
Burton,  Blanche,  193. 
Butterflies,  177,  178,  184. 
Byron,  Arthur,  177,  184,  193,  198, 

199,  225. 
Byron,  Henry  J.,  47. 
Byron,  Mrs.  Oliver  Doud,  33. 


Cabinet  Minister,  The,  109,  no. 

Camille,  8,  30. 

Captain  Dieppe,  204,  205. 

Captain  Jinks,  2C«,  229. 

Cardiff  Giant,  71. 

Carleton,  Henry  Guy,  177,  183. 

Carr,  Comyns,   109. 

Carr,  Herbert,  199. 

Carrington,  Reginald,  203. 

Carson,  Murray,  186. 

Carton,  R.  C,  184 

Casson,  Louis,  212. 

Casting  a  Boomerang,  123. 

Chambers,   C.  Haddon,  197. 

Chanfrau,  Frank,  37,  38. 

Charity,  47,  140. 

Cheatham,  Kitty,  100. 

Chief,  The,  220. 

Choate,  Joseph  H.,  218,  219. 

Christopher,  Jr.,  184. 

Churchill,  Winston,  198. 

Clarke,   George,  95,   96,  98,   100, 

n6. 
Clarke,  J.  S.,  61. 
Clayton,  John,  in. 
Clemens,    Samuel   L.     See  Mark 

Twain. 
Cleveland,  Grover,   176. 
Coghlan,  Charles,  116. 
Coghlan,  Rose,  98,  213. 
Collier,  Helen,  230. 
Collier,  William,  91,  94,  100,  loi, 

152.  153. 
Conquest,  Ida,  197,  198,  199,  203. 
Contented  Woman,  A,  179. 


Conway,  Mrs.  F.  B.,  183. 
Conway,  Hart,  76,  77,  99. 
Cool  as  a  Cucumber,  i,  2,  3. 
Cooper,  Frank  Kemble,  217. 
Coquelin,  61,  113,  141. 
Country  Girl,  The,  1 1 5, 127, 128,141. 
Country  Sport,  The,  175. 
Country  Wife,  The,  115. 
Craig,  Robert,  25,  27. 
Crane,  Edith,  100,  116. 
Crane,  W.  H.,  48,  98,  189. 
Crehan,  Ada,  33. 
Crewes,    Laura    Hope,    197,    217, 

218. 
Crosman,  Henrietta,  95,  96. 
Curamings,  Ellen,  62,  63. 
Custer,   General,   16,   17. 
Curry,  Jim,  63,  64,  66,  67,  68. 
Curtis,   George  William,   106. 
Cymbeline,  59. 

D 

Dailey,  Peter,  175. 

Dale,  Margaret,  203,  204,  Z05. 

Dalton,  Charles,  230. 

Daly,  Arnold,  175. 

Daly,  Augustin,  33,  36,  39,  40,  41, 

42,  43.  45.  46.  47.  49.  5°,  57. 
60,  61,  69,  70,  71,  72,  73,  74,  75, 
84,  88,  89,  91,  92,  94,  95,  99, 
loi,  103,  104,  105,  no.  III,  113, 
IIS,  "9,  121,  124,  125,  127,  134, 
141,  143.  146,  150,  151,  159.  i6i, 
162,  164,  165,  166,  167,  168,  171, 
172,  194,  195,  196,  209,  210. 

Daly,  Joseph  F.,  57,  159. 

Daly,  Lu  Lung,  209,  210. 

Daly,  Peter.    See  Arnold  Daly. 

Daly's  Theatre,  71  (Opening). 

Dam,  Henry,  121. 

Damala,  138. 

Dandy  Dick,  109,  no. 

Davenport,  E.  L.,  24,  232. 

Davenport,  Edgar  L.,  212,  333. 

Davenport,  Fanny,  40,  45,  47,  49, 
50,  96,  99,  140. 

Davy  Crockett,  30. 

Davidge,  William,  54,  76,  77,  99. 

Davies,  Hubert,  220. 

Davies,  H.  Rees,  62. 

Davis,  Richard  Harding,  191. 


t^wU^>bv<v^l'* 


i  •>-' 


•1-3 


INDEX 


237 


De  Lancey,  205. 

Delmore,  Herbert,  217. 

Derickson,   Marie,    193. 

De  Wolfe,  Elsie,  184,  188,  191. 

Dickens,   Charles,  24-26,   38,   135. 

Diplomacy,  62,  66,  68. 

Dithmar,  Edward  A.,  84,  107. 

Divorce,  62,  76. 

Dodson,  J.  E.,   183. 

Dollars  and  Sense,  109,  123. 

Doro,  Marie,   195. 

Doty,  Carlotta,  217. 

Douglas,  Gilbert,  219. 

Dreher,  Virginia,  93,  94,  112,  114, 

123,   134- 

Drew,  Edward,  14,  15. 

Drew,  Frank,  28,  29,  70. 

Drew,   George,   15. 

Drew,  Georgie,  i,  2,  3,  35,  38,  69, 
233. 

Drew,  John,  1-6  (debut),  6-29 
(early  recollections),  32-40 
(Arch  Street  Theatre),  42-46 
(New  York  debut),  47-52  (to 
coast  with  Daly  Company),  54- 
59  (with  Booth),  59  (with 
Adelaide  Neilson),  60  (with 
Jefferson),  62-68  (with  Warde 
and  Barrymore),  71-117  (the 
Daly  Company),  118-153  (the 
Daly  Company  abroad),  168 
(last  performance  with  Daly 
Company),  169-230  (under 
management  of  Charles  Froh- 
man). 

Drew,  Mrs.  John,  38,  170,  221. 

Drew,  John,  Sr.,  i,  2,  8,  9,  21,  22, 

23.  34,  35- 
Drew,  Mrs.  John,  Sr.,  i,  2,  3,  4, 

6,  7.  8,  13,  19,  34,  35,  40,  114, 

189,  190,  232,  233. 
Drew,    Louisa.      See    Mrs.    John 

Drew,  Sr. 
Drew,  Louise,  214,  220,  23a. 
Drink,  7a 
Druce,  Hubert,  217. 
Duff,  John,  70. 
Duke   of  KilUcrankie,   The,  aoi, 

202,   203. 
du  Maurier,  G.,   150. 
Dyaa,  Ada,  99. 


E 


East  Lynne,  8. 

Eckendorf,  Major,  14. 

Edmunds,  Walter,  76,  77. 

Edwards,  Harry,  100,  116,  159. 

Elliott,  Arthur,  219. 

Elliott,  Frank,  217. 

Empire     Theatre     (opening    of), 

182. 
Eric,  Fred,  217. 
Esmond,  H.  V.,  191. 
Evangeline,   i8o. 


Fair,  James,  48,  49. 

Fairfax,  Bernard,  216. 

Far  from    the   Madding    Croiud, 

109. 
Fawcett,  Edgar,  78,  104,  105. 
Fearing,  Henry,  219. 
Febvre,   Frederick,   176. 
Fechter,  Charles,  27,  30. 
Fernandez,  Bijou,  94. 
Fielding,  May,  75,  114. 
Fisher,  Amelia,  79,  80. 
Fisher,  Charles,  27,  52,  ;4,  75,  77, 

.93,  99,   "2,   114. 
Fitch,   Clyde,   171,    180,   200,  204, 

229. 
Flagg,  Georgine,  76. 
Florence,  Katherine,  182. 
Florence,   Lillian,   171. 
Florence,  W.  J.,  183. 
Flower,   Charles,    122. 
Fool's  Revenge,  The,  24. 
Ford,  George,  203. 
Foresters,  The,  36,  139. 
Forrest,  Edwin,  7,  24,  61,  161. 
Franklyn,   Maurice,  219. 
Fredericks,  William  S.,  8. 
Frohman,   Charles,    69,    163,    164, 

165,  166,  167,  i68,  173,  17s,  186, 

195,  198,  200,  207,  209,  218,  226, 

227,  228. 
Frohman,  Daniel,  198. 
Fulda,  Ludwig,   170. 
Furness,  Horace  Howard,  88,  90. 
Files,  Franklin,  182. 


238 


INDEX 


Gayler,  May,  208. 

Gilbert,   Mrs,   G.   H.,  40,  46,  49, 

50,  77,  81,  83,  84,  88,  89,  90,  93, 

103,  105,  116,  123,  128,  132,  151, 

166,  19s,  196. 
Gilbert,  William,  93,  96,  114,  132. 
Gilbert,  W.  S.,  47,  59,  140. 
Gillette,  William,  163,  170,  228. 
Girdlestone,  Madge,  219. 
Girl  I  Left  Behind  Me,  The,  182. 
Glad  of  It,  204,  205. 
Glendenning,  Ernest,  230. 
Golden  Widoiu,  113, 
Goldsmith,  Frank,  208,  212. 
Goodwin,  Nat  C,   179,   180,   181, 

189. 
Gottschalk,   Ferdinand,   203,  208. 
Gower,  Lord  Ronald,  138. 
Granger,  Maude,  70. 
Granny,  195,  196. 
Grant,  General,  87. 
Grattan,  Stephen,  loi,  152,  153, 
Great  Eastern,  The,  26. 
Great  Ruby,  The,  194. 
Great  Unknoivn,  The,  109. 
Gormley,   Owen,  74,  75. 
Grey,  Alice,    54. 
Griffen,  C,  6. 

Grossmith,  George,   138,  139. 
Grundy,  Sydney,   190. 

H 

Hackett,  James  K.,  198. 

Hale,   Walter,   205. 

Hallard,  C.  M.,  219. 

Halliday,  Lena,  219. 

Hamlet,  54,  57,  126. 

Handy  Andy,  22. 

Harcourt,   George,   203. 

Hardenburg,  F.,   54. 

Hardy,  Thomas,   109,  139. 

Hare,   John,   150. 

Harkins,   D.   H.,    54,   57,   99,   ^93. 

Harte,  Bret,   147,  148. 

Harrold,  Maggie,  77. 

Harrison,   Florence,  218. 

Harwood,    Harry,    171,    177,    184, 

193.   198,   199- 
Hawtrey,  Charles,  216. 
Hayman,  Al,  164,  165. 


Hayman,  Alf,  227. 
Henderson,  Grace,  213. 
Henriques,   Madelaine,  27. 
Her  Atonement,  163. 
Herbert,  Sidney,  100,  116,  217. 
His    Excellency,    The    Governor^ 

2CK). 

His  House  in  Order,  219. 
Hodgson,  Sir  Arthur,  121. 
Holland,  Edward,  189. 
Holland,  Joseph,  94,  101,  189. 
Holmes,  Burton,  223,  224. 
Hope,  Anthony,  204. 
Hopper,  De  Wolf,  163. 
Hopper,  Edvard,   11. 
Hopper,  Isaac  T.,  10. 
Howard,  Bronson,  47,  50,  77,  93, 

151,  163. 
Howard,  L.  C,  208. 
Hoyt,  Charles,  164,  170,  179,  180. 
Humphreys,  Joseph,  184. 
Hunter,  Clara,  193. 
Hunting,  P.,  76,  77. 
Hutton,  Lawrence,  159. 


Ichikawa,  231,  232. 
Hlington,  Margaret,  219. 
Inconstant  George,  214,  216. 
International  Match,  An,  109. 
Iredale,  Frank,  76. 
Irish,  Annie,  193. 
Irish  Emigrant,  The,  22. 
Irving,    Henry,    60,    95,    126,    137, 

138,  144,  150,  190,  196. 
Irving,   Isabel,   95,   100,    no,   190, 

193.  197,  198,  212. 
Irwin,   May,    104,    112,    114,    132, 

175- 
Ives,  Charlotte,  23a 


Jack  Strata,  212. 
James,  Henry,  147,  150. 
James,  Louis,  30,  90,  91,  99. 
Jefferson,    Joseph,    4,    60,    86,    87, 
155,  160,  162,  180,  189,  190,  232. 
Jerome,  Jerome  K.,  195. 
Jerrold,  W.  Blanchard,  i. 
Jewett,  Sarah,  40. 


INDEX 


239 


John,  Alice,  218. 
Johnson,  Andrew,  16. 
Johnson,   Orrin,    182,   193. 
Jones,  Henry  Arthur,  183,  191. 
Jones,  Mrs.  W.  G.,  199. 

K 

Katherine  and  Petruchio.  See 
The  Taming  of  the  Shrew. 

Keeler,  Caroline,  203. 

Kelly,  Desmond,  217. 

Kendal,  Mr.  and  Mrs.,  146. 

Kendrick,   Rexford,  217. 

Kester,  Paul,  196. 

Kimball,  Kate,  213. 

Kingdon,  (Gould)  Edith,  94,  107, 
112,  133. 

Kinloch,   Eliza,   12,   19,  233. 

Kiskadden.     See  Adams. 

Kitty  O'Shiel,  36. 

Klein,  Alfred,  163,  164. 

Klein,  Charles,  163. 

Kniffht  of  Arva,  22. 

L 

Labouchere,  Henry,  124. 

Lacy,  Harry,  77. 

Lady  Huntvjorth's  Experiment, 
184. 

Lady  of  Lyons,  The,  194. 

Laffan,  Robert,    122. 

Lamb,  Edward,   183. 

Lamb,  Frank  E.,  171,  177,  183, 
184,  198. 

Lane,  Louisa.  See  Mrs.  John 
Drew,  Sr. 

Lanner,  Margaret,  77. 

L'Assomoir,  70,  75. 

Latham,  Hope,  208. 

Laurel,  Jane,  212,  217. 

Lawton,  Thais,  220. 

Lady  Atidley,  8. 

LeBrun,  Mrs.,  90. 

Leclercq,  Charles,  76,  77,  93,  95, 
100,    103,    116. 

Lester,    Kate,   204. 

Lewis,  Catherine,  76,  77. 

Lewis,  James,  39,  40,  41,  43,  46, 
49.  50,  51.  52.  77,  81,  83,  84,  88, 
90,  93.  94.  95.  100,  101,  103,  112, 
114,  116,  122,  123,  126,  128,  131, 
132,  148,  149,  151,  152,  154,  157, 


158,  159,  163,  166,  183,  185,  186, 

195. 
Lewis,  JefFrys,  49,  54,  57,  230. 
Liars,  The,  191,  192. 
Lion  and  the  Mouse,  The,  163. 
Little  Treasure,  The,  66. 
Little  Minister,  The,  186. 
Lodge,  Henry  Cabot,  191. 
Logan,  Olive,  32,  70,  76. 
London  Assurance,  47,  48. 
Longman,  Edward,  217. 
Lord  and  Lady  Algy,  184. 
Lords  and  Commons,  109. 
Losee,  Frank,   199. 
Lost  in  London,  27. 
Lost  Paradise,  The,  170. 
Lottery  of  Love,  The,  113. 
Love  for  Love,  115. 
Love  in  Harness,  109. 
Love  on  Crutches,   IC7,   109,   125, 

127,  128,  132,  134,  141. 
Love  JVatches,  209. 
Love's  Labour's  Lost,  99. 
Love's  Young  Dream,  75. 
Lover,   Samuel,  21. 

Mc 
McCoy,  Frank,  230. 
McDonough,   William,    147. 
McDougal,  Rex,  208,  216,  219. 
McCullough,   John,   48. 
McKelway,    Sinclair,    85. 

M 
Mackay,  Clarence,  48. 
Mackay,   John,   48 
Mackay,  Robert,  203. 
Magistrate,    The,    109,    no,    in, 

112. 
Majeroni,  Mario,  208,  212. 
Mansfield,  Richard,  171,  210,  211. 
Marburgh,  Bertram,  217. 
Marbury,  Elizabeth,  204. 
Marlowe,  Julia,  189. 
Marriage  of  Convenience,  A,  190, 

191. 
Marshall,  Captain,  195,  202. 
Masked  Ball,  The,  171,  172,  173, 

174.  175.  177.  182- 
Mathews,  Charles,  5. 
Maugham,  W.  Somerset,  212. 


240 


INDEX 


May,  Olive,  177,  178,  199. 

Mayo,  Frank,  30,  98. 

Meek,  Kate,  178. 

Mellish,  Fuller,  230. 

Meredith,   George,   139. 

Merry  Wives  of  JVindsor,  88,  93. 

Midsummer  Nights  Dream,  A,  94, 

95-  . 
Midnight  Bell,  A,  170,  179. 

Mighty  Dollar,  The,  183. 

Millais,  John  E.,  150. 

Miller,  Henry,  81,   165,  185. 

Millet,   F.   S.,    106. 

Milward,  Jessie,  200. 

Minna,  Madame,  9. 

Miss  Hobbs,  195. 

Mitchell,  Dodson,  199. 

Moliere,  77,   144. 

Moore,  John,  41,  93,  100,  116. 

Moore,   Mary,   122. 

Morris,  Clara,   90,  91. 

Morris,  William,   182. 

Morton,    Charles,    39. 

Morton,  George,  77. 

Morton,  Michael,  207. 

Mott,  Lucretia,  11. 

Mounet-Sully,  61. 

Much  Ado  About  Nothing,  217. 

Mummy  and  the  Humming  Bird, 

The,  202. 
Murdoch,   Frank,   30. 
Murphy,  Steve.    See  Grattan. 
Murray,  Ross,  217. 
Music  Master,  The,  163. 
My  Wife,  207,  208. 

N 
Nancy  and  Company,  46,  106,  109, 

124,  127,  128,  141,  144. 
Nathan  Hale,  180. 
Needles  and  Pins,  83,  84,  85,  109. 
Neilson,  Adelaide,  22,  59. 
Nelson,    Sydney,   77. 
Ne<wport,   76. 
Neiu  Way  to  Pay  Old  Debts,  A, 

24. 
Nicander,  Edwin,  2i2. 
Nichols,  Guy,  205. 
Nick  of  the  Woods,  24. 
Night  Off,  A,  46,   101,   103,   104, 

109,  123,  127,  128,  134,  141,  168. 


Odette,  113. 

Olin,  Stephen,  159. 

Oliver  Tvnst,  47. 

Olivia,  60. 

O'Neill,  Hattie,  33,  37. 

O'Neill,  James,  48. 

One  Summer's  Day,  191. 

Othello,  57. 

Our  First  Families,  78,  81,  104. 

Ours,  25. 


Palmer,  A.  M.,  113,  159,  161. 
Parkes,  George,  40,  41,  76,  77,  94, 

114. 
Parker,  Louis  N.,  186. 
Parmenter,  B.  W.,  204. 
Pastor,  Tony,  104. 
Passing  Regiment,  The,  109. 
Patten,  Thomas,   101. 
Peaceful  Valley,  154. 
Perplexed    Husband,    The,    aoz, 

220. 
Peter  Wilkins,  20. 
Phelps,    Edward,    147,    148,    150, 

Phillips,  Wendell,  ii,  25. 

Pickivick  Papers,  24. 

Pinero,   Arthur   Wing,    109,    no, 

III,  219. 
Players,  The,   Founding  of,   159- 

162. 
Poole,  Mrs.  Charles,  76. 
Pond,  Anson,  163,  165. 
Poor  Relation,  The,  155. 
Porter,  Ben,  62,  63,  64,  66,  67. 
Porter,      General      Horace,      93, 

106. 
Powell,  E.  Soldene,  208,  212. 
Power,  Tyrone,  21. 
Powers,  Francis,   199. 
Powers,  Leona,  219. 
Presbrey,  Eugene,  171. 
Price,  Lizzie,  27. 
Prince,    Adelaide,    100,    116,   213, 

216. 
Proctor,  Joseph,  24. 
Prodigal  Husband,  The,  »20. 
Professor,  The,  163. 


INDEX 


241 


Railroad  of  Love,   The,  46,   107, 

108,  109,  144. 
Reade,   Charles,  70. 
Recruiting  Officer,  The,  113,  114, 

Rehan,  Ada,  25,  33,  35,  37,  38,  39, 
40,  63,  70,  72,  75,  77,  78,  81,  83, 
84,  85,  90,  93,  94,  95,  97.  99,  100, 
103,  105,  106,  107,  108,  no,  in, 
112,  113,  114,  115,  n6,  121,  123, 
I2S,  128,  133,  137,  138,  139,  146, 
151,  153,  163,  166,  169,  191,  194, 
195,   196. 

Remington,  Frederick,  215,  216. 

Revelle,    Hamilton,    152. 

Rice,  Fanny,  189. 

Richard  Carvel,  198. 

Richard,  Daly's  servant,  42. 

Richard  II,  56,  57. 

Richelieu,  24,  57. 

Rigl,  Emily,  70. 

Ringold,  B.  T.,  70. 

Rip  Van  Winkle,  60,  86,  87. 

Rivals,  The,  189,  190. 

Roberts,  Theodore,  182. 

Robertson,  Ian,   170. 

Robertson,  Tom,  25. 

Robson,  Stuart,  98. 

Roccardi,  Albert,  208. 

Rockwell,  Charles,  27. 

Roosevelt,  Theodore,  191,  201. 

Rory  O'More,  22. 

Rose,  Edward,  204. 

Rose,  E.  E.,  198. 

Rosemary,  81,   83,   174,    183,    185, 
186,  188,  189,  190,  226,  230,  231. 

Rough  Diamond,  The,  47,  52. 

Royal  Family,  The,  195. 

Russell,  Annie,  172,  195. 

Russell,  Harold,   171. 

Russell,  Sol  Smith,  154,  155,  156. 

Ryley,  Madeline  Lucette,  184. 

S 

Sabine,  Martin,  216,  219. 
Saint-Gaudens,  A.,  175. 
Sampson,  William,  100. 
Sanger,  Frank,  70,  164,  165. 
Sardou,  V,,  113,  230. 


Saratoga,  47,  50,  151,  152. 

Sarcey,  F.,   142,  144. 

Sargent,  John  S.,  147. 

Second  in  Command,  The,  202. 

Sefton,  John,  26. 

Selten,  Mrs.  Kate  Pattison,  208. 

Selton,  Morton,  208,  212. 

7-20-8,  123. 

Schable,  Robert,  203,  216. 

School  for  Scandal,  The,  61,  115, 

116. 
Scott,   Cyril,   182. 
Scotto,  the  Scout,  19. 
Scrap  of  Paper,  The,  54,  230. 
Simpson,  Ivan,  220. 
Single  Man,  A ,  220. 
Skinner,  Otis,  93,  94,  loi,  103,  112, 
114,  121,  123,  128,  130,  132,  133, 
142,  156,  157,  196. 

Shannon,  Effie,  94. 
Shenandoah,  163. 
She  Would  and  She  Would  Not, 
114,  122,   127,   128. 

Sheridan,   General,   16,   52. 

Sheridan,  William.     See  William 
S.  Fredericks. 

Sheridan,  William  E.,  24. 

Sherman,     General,     16,    75,    93, 
io6,   159. 

Short,  Hassard,  203,  212. 

Smith,  212. 

Smith,  Ida  Greeley,  208. 

Smith,   Percy,   203. 

Soderling,  Alice,  217. 

Soderling,  Walter,  208,  216,  217. 

Sothern,  E.  H.,  210,  211. 

Squire,  The,  109. 

Squire  of  Dames,  The,  184. 

Standing,  Guy,  202,  203. 

Stedman,  Edmund  Clarence,  106. 

Stephens,  Yorke,  123. 

Stephenson,  Henry,  217. 

Stevenson,  C.  A.,  79. 

Stirling,  Earle,  76,  77. 

Stockton,  Frank  R.,  106, 

Stoddart,  J.   H.,   \Iq, 

Stokes,  Rose,   ^2. 

Stranger  in  Ne^  Yori,  A,  179. 

Stranger,  The,  58,  59- 

Sullivan,    Sir    Arthur,    139,    i5»i 
154. 


242 


INDEX 


Surf,  32,  70,  76. 
Sutro,  Alfred,  202,  220. 
Siueet  Nell  of  Old  Drury,  196. 
Swinburne,      Algernon      Charles, 
139. 

T 

Taber,  Robert,  189. 

Taft,  William  Howard,  203. 

Taming  of  the  Shrew,  The,  25, 
35.  75f  88-93  (first  perform- 
ance),  ic»,    no,    118,   119,    122, 

125,  137.  138,  144,  145,  153,  »69. 
Taylor,  Tom,  24. 
Tennant,   Dorothy,  208. 
Tenniel,  John,   138. 
Tennyson,   Alfred,    36,    139. 
Temperance  Toivn,  A,  179. 
Terriss,  William,   146. 
Terry,  Ellen,  138,  196. 
That    Impudent    Young    Couple, 

183. 
Thomas,  Augustus,  205. 
Thompson,  W.  IL,  182. 
Thorndike,   Sybil,  212. 
Thorpe,  Laura,  76. 
Tilden,  Fred,  216. 
Tiote,  81. 

Towse,  John  Rankin,  116. 
Twain,  Mark,  75,  84,  85,  93,  106, 

159. 
Tijjelve  Precisely,  6. 
T'welfth  Night,  22,  59. 
Tyler,  Fred,  212. 
Tyler,  Odette,   182. 
Tynan,   Brandon,    199. 
Tyranny  of  Tears,  The,  197,  2i8. 
Tyree,  Elizabeth,  193. 


U 


Under  the  Gaslight,  42. 


Vachell,  Horace  Annesley,  220. 

Vernon,  Ida,  203. 

Vezin,   Herman,   60. 

Vibart,  Henry,  219. 

Vicar  of  Wakefield,  The,  60. 


W 

Wagner,   Richard,    141. 
Wakeman,   Annie,   76. 
Walberg,  The  Avenger,  58. 
Wales,  The  Prince  of,  24,  52,  125. 
Wallack,  Lester,  26,  93. 
IVang,  163. 

Warde,  Frederick,  62,  68. 
Warner,   Charles,   70. 
Warner,  Charles  Dudley,  106. 
Warren,  William,  79,  162. 
Way  We  Live,  The,  78. 
Weak  Women,  47. 
Wheatleigh,  Charles,  icx>,  n6. 
Wheatley,  William,  8. 
Wheeler,  Colonel  John  H.,  10. 
Whiffen,  Mrs.  Thomas,  230. 
Whistler,    James    McNeill,     136, 

137- 
White  Horse  of  the  Peppers,  The, 

21. 
White,  Stamford,  106,  161. 
Wicked  World,  The,  140. 
Widmer,  Henry,  130,  131. 
Wilkes,  E.  P.,  76,  94,  114. 
Will,  The,  197,  218. 
Williamson,   Passmore,   10. 
Williams,  Fritz,  164. 
Wills,  W.  G.,  60. 
William   Tell,  7. 
Wilson,  Francis,  189. 
Winter,  William,  27,  54,  93,  119, 

X2I,    150. 
Wiz'es,  77. 
Wives  As  They  Wen  and  Maids 

As  They  Are,  68. 
Woman's  Won't,  A,  127,   141. 
Women  of  the  Day,  39,  40. 
Wood,  John,  94,   loi. 
Wood,  Mrs.  John,  lor. 
Wyndham,   Charles,  47,   83,   laa, 

123,   151. 


Yeghi,  S.,  230. 
Yorke,   Augustus,   ii3. 
Yorke,  Oswald,  203. 
Young,  Brigham,  50, 


0 


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